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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422772">Thicker Than Blood</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/strandedchesspiece/pseuds/strandedchesspiece'>strandedchesspiece</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SEAL Team (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abduction, Clay Spenser Whump, Clay whump, Fatherly Jason, Hurt Clay Spenser, Hurt/Comfort, Jason whump, Light Torture, Protective Jason, Team as Family, worried team</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:21:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,718</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422772</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/strandedchesspiece/pseuds/strandedchesspiece</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a breather after Serbia. But things go sideways when Jason and Clay disappear.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>381</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I thought perhaps I was done writing these guys, but apparently not quite yet. I can't promise quick updates on this one, and I'm sure I'll regret starting it, but I'll do my best. Set very early season 3. Usual disclaimers apply. Warning for language. And a friendly reminder that I have limited military and medical knowledge, so advanced apologies for any mistakes or inconsistencies. Thanks for reading :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason cracked open his eyes, feeling panic flare – though the edges were fuzzy, muted out.</p><p>Immediately, he began a silent inventory; internal and external, scanning and taking stock of injury and danger whilst at the same time attempting to piece together what the fuck had happened.</p><p>Wrists – bound.</p><p>Ankles – bound.</p><p>Clothing – mostly gone, aside from his boxer briefs.</p><p>
  <em>God damn it.</em>
</p><p>Attention skipping from one thing to the next, he was grateful to find no body parts seemed broken. His inability to move came from his binds, as opposed to injury. He was laying on a cool, unforgiving, concrete floor, staring at a stained concrete wall. His hands were tied behind his back, and his ankles were cinched with a thin rope that chafed like hell.</p><p>Grunting, he managed to flip himself – successfully switching his view of the wall for a wider view of the room.</p><p>His gaze landed on Clay, and his breath caught.</p><p>The kid lay unmoving, a few feet into the center of the small room - bound in the same way, also stripped down to boxer briefs. His eyes were closed, expression lax.</p><p>Jason carried out a lightning-quick assessment of the younger man, grateful beyond words that Clay was at least breathing with no obvious signs of trauma – aside from the fact he was unconscious. Awkwardly, he wriggled closer.</p><p>There was a suspicious delay between his brain and body as he moved across the floor. Drugs? Jason's mind churned. Unconscious without an obvious blow to the head made that a likely scenario. It would also explain why he was having such a hard time gathering his thoughts, which was just fucking fantastic.</p><p>"Clay?" Jason whispered.</p><p>Clay didn't stir.</p><p>The effort of closing the small distance was greater than it should have been. Jason let his head fall back to the concrete once he was within a foot from Clay's face, squeezed his eyes closed briefly. After regathering himself, he gritted his teeth, and, locking his core, managed to pull himself upright.</p><p>The room swayed dangerously.</p><p>Jason's swimming gaze landed on another body, nearby the closed door. For a moment, his heart stuttered, worried it was another of their brothers.</p><p>His eyes traveled over the man's face, noting the wide, unseeing eyes; the single bullet hole center forehead, execution style.</p><p>Puzzle pieces clicked into place.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p><em>Miguel</em>.</p><p>The Honduran team leader had suggested they head to a local spot he knew of to get some 'real' food for Bravo's final night. They were supposed to grab the food, bring it back to base for everyone.</p><p>"<em>Team leaders' shout</em>." Miguel had suggested – much to the approval of all the others.</p><p>And Jason had agreed, because, why not? Their time in Honduras had been about as enjoyable as a spin-up got. Mainly because it <em>wasn't</em> technically a spin-up. Bravo had been called in to assist with training Miguel's team, help them hone their sniper and tactical assault skills. It was supposed to have been a necessary breather after the intensity of Serbia. Something they <em>all </em>needed.</p><p>Jason blinked rapidly, attempting to clear his still-swimming vision.</p><p>
  <em>The fuck had gone so wrong?</em>
</p><p>Miguel had offered to drive. Clay had piped up, said he'd wanted to come along - something about wanting to see more of the local area before they headed home in the morning, even if just for a food run. Jason had agreed, joking that Clay could foot part of the bill. They'd grabbed their things, had headed ten minutes down the road into town …</p><p>Jason swallowed painfully, mouth dry. He recalled the take-out joint. Recalled sitting on a bar stool beside Clay, waiting for their food. Clay had suggested they wait outside, but Miguel had ushered them in, offering to buy them a cool drink while they waited – and Jason had caught something in Clay's expression then, some splinter of hesitation. He'd been about to ask, but Clay had shaken it off, agreed to head inside.</p><p>Letting his gaze drop back to the younger man now, he wondered if perhaps there was something Clay had picked up on but hadn't spoken aloud at the time. The kid wasn't exactly known for keeping his opinions to himself, but he was freshly back with the team, and had been more reserved than normal of late.</p><p>Jason shuffled closer to his boy, until he could bump an elbow against Clay's shoulder. "Hey," he prompted, giving a light jostle. "Wake up, kid, c'mon."</p><p>The events at the take-out joint after they'd gone inside were fractured and hazy. Jason recalled a bright light - but it hadn't been an explosion. Flash-bang, he guessed, enough to stun them but not blow them apart. He recalled being knocked off his stool, feeling a sting in the back of his neck.</p><p>More puzzle pieces clicked.</p><p>So, they <em>had</em> been drugged. He rolled his neck gently, annoyed that he couldn't reach up to probe the sore spot. Gaze wandering back to Miguel's body, Jason felt his brow furrow.</p><p>The Honduran team leader's clothing remained. His arms and legs were free. The blood from his bullet wound wasn't minutes fresh, indicating the fatal shot had been delivered some time ago - how long, Jason couldn't be sure. But the fact that Miguel's eyes were open suggested he'd been conscious at the time. If he had been drugged, then that wouldn't have been possible.</p><p>Jason felt a weight settle in the pit of his stomach. Even in his fuzzy state, he could sense that something wasn't adding up, and it was beginning to leave a bad taste in his mouth.</p><p>Clay groaned, snagging Jason's attention.</p><p>The younger man's face scrunched, and he shifted against his binds, lashes fluttering to reveal slits of blue.</p><p>"Hey," Jason spoke urgently, leaning as close to Clay as possible. "Deep breaths." He kept his voice low. "Stay calm. Stay quiet."</p><p>Clay's eyes widened marginally as his gaze locked onto Jason's, but he followed the abrupt orders.</p><p>Jason could tell that Clay was running through his own mental checklist – internal and external, as their training dictated. "You hurt?" he asked.</p><p>Clay shook his head, winced lightly. "Bit of a headache." He swallowed convulsively, and then managed to wobble upright. "The hell happened?"</p><p>Jason felt a splinter of relief at Clay's confirmation that he wasn't injured. He let his shoulder sag, grimly offered a half-nod in Miguel's direction.</p><p>Clay jerkily turned his head, followed Jason's gaze. He stiffened at the sight. "Ambush?" He darted his eyes back to Jason.</p><p>Jason chewed the inside of his cheek.</p><p>Possibly. Possibly not.</p><p>Clay's attention skipped between himself, Jason, and their Honduran friend, and Jason could nearly see the wheels in the kid's head turning as he tried to join the dots.</p><p>"They killed him," Clay's tone was dark, "but they kept us alive. Why?"</p><p>Jason filled in the blanks. "Doesn't bode well, does it."</p><p>Clay swallowed jaggedly, blew a breath out through his nose. "Any idea who we're dealing with?" he asked eventually.</p><p>Jason felt his stomach curl. "No clue," he replied tensely. "It's Honduras. Take your fucking pick."</p><p>STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST</p><p>Sonny exited the base's command center with enough force to nearly knock the door from its hinges. Once he was outside, he paced, sucking in breaths through his nose, nostrils flaring alongside his anger.</p><p>The sun was setting, taking with it a portion of the day's heat. But the evening remained oppressive, air heavy with humidity. It caused his clothing to stick in places it shouldn't, his palms to sweat. And now, with raging anxiety (borderline panic) coursing through him, he felt even more uncomfortable than he had done previously.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>
  <em>FUCK.</em>
</p><p>Sonny whirled, punched the side of the building – sending a violent vibration through the wall, and causing his knuckles to scream at him.</p><p>Clenching his fists and ignoring the pain, he threw his gaze skywards, bit his bottom lip so hard he tasted blood.</p><p>He'd let his guard down. Damn it, he should have known that letting his guard down never ended well.</p><p>
  <em>Rookie move, cowboy.</em>
</p><p>He'd actually been enjoying this break from their usual shit-show. The Honduran team had grown on him, and, despite the God-awful weather, he'd felt he might actually miss this place when they flew home tomorrow. Things were good with Davis, Clay was back with the team … The world was up the right way again.</p><p>At least, it had been, until one hour and seventeen minutes ago, when they'd been pulled from the fire pit and ordered into the command center – ordered to leave their phones at the door; no one in or out aside from the two teams, their CO's, and Davis.</p><p>They'd been informed of the hard and fast hit on the take-out joint. Jason, Clay and Miguel were missing, presumed abducted. And nobody had seen a damned thing – or, more likely, they had, but they weren't talking.</p><p>Sonny's chest tightened, and he spun, leaning his back against the building's wall. His throat closed painfully.</p><p>The local authorities had swarmed the scene, but no bodies had been found. No sign of their guys. The owner of the shop had known Miguel, had known that he was associated with the nearby Navy base. He'd been the one to speak up and say that Miguel had been there one second, gone the next. The authorities had relayed that info through to base's command. And, here they were; clock ticking, with no idea as to whether their brothers were even still alive.</p><p>Davis was on it. Of course, she was on it. But with no immediate security cameras around the shop, they were relying solely on satellite images – none of which were very helpful. Witnesses described a stun grenade, and the footage that Davis managed to find showed multiple vehicles pull up to the small building at the same time, just before the flash-bang was meant to have gone off. The problem was, those vehicles then left at the same time, heading in multiple directions. And the shop's large awning conveniently blocked any view of bodies being dragged from the building, making it impossible to tell which vehicle may have held their guys.</p><p>Sonny's anxiety was growing with every passing minute. At some point along the way, it had morphed into rage. Rules be damned, he'd had to get out of that command room before he knocked somebody's teeth out.</p><p>The door swung open, and Ray descended the couple of steps.</p><p>"Save it," Sonny bit, barely meeting Bravo Two's eyes.</p><p>Ray came up alongside him, unruffled by the Texan's tone, leaned against the wall. "Need you back in there, brother."</p><p>Sonny speared him with a fiery look. "You know as well as I do, this was no coincidence."</p><p>Ray released a slow breath, corners of his mouth tight with stress. He went to speak, but Sonny cut him off.</p><p>"Someone knew that Jason and Clay would be in that shop." Sonny's words shook around the edges, echoing the tremor that vibrated through him. "Military ain't exactly well-loved around here. Someone ratted them out, probably to one of the local cartels, hoping for a reward."</p><p>Ray's dark eyes were more shadowed than normal. He didn't argue, just replied, "That's what we need to figure out."</p><p>Sonny pushed off the wall, threw up his arms. "The fuck is there to figure out, Ray?" He jabbed a finger in the direction of the command room. "The only people who knew our guys would be at that shop, are <em>in that room</em>."</p><p>Ray leveled him with a look. "They're thinking the same about us, you know."</p><p>Sonny scoffed, went to argue.</p><p>"Miguel is missing, too," Ray pressed. "In case you forgot."</p><p>Sonny bit down on a curse. Of course he hadn't forgotten. But it didn't mean the Honduran team leader was innocent. "Perhaps Miguel was the one behind this."</p><p>Ray lifted a brow. "I overheard one of the Hondurans suggesting the same about Clay."</p><p>Sonny saw red.</p><p>Ray's arm flung out, gripping him by the shoulder, holding him firmly in place. "They're suggesting that it wasn't a coincidence Clay wanted to tag along, that perhaps he had something planned."</p><p>"That's <em>bullshit -</em>"</p><p>"<em>I know</em>." Ray pulled a handful of deep breaths, seeming to have to work to steady himself. "I know," he repeated, tone softening, his eyes meeting Sonny's.</p><p>"So, we cut the shit, go after our boys alone," Sonny suggested icily.</p><p>Understanding briefly rippled over Ray's features, before it was tucked away behind a more professional façade. "They're wanting to do the same thing."</p><p>"So <em>let them</em>."</p><p>Ray shook his head. "We need to work together on this."</p><p>Sonny snorted. "We really don't."</p><p>But Bravo Two wasn't budging. "Throwing around unfounded accusations isn't gonna get our guys back, and you know that as well as I do."</p><p>Sonny wanted to argue. He really did. He hated admitting when Ray had a point.</p><p>Perhaps sensing Sonny's defeat, Ray reached a hand, gently gripped the Texan's shoulder. "We'll find them." There was conviction in his tone, even if it wasn't a promise he could truly make.</p><p>Sonny felt his throat tighten further. He had no doubt that they would, but would it be too late? "We just got Clay back." The words tumbled quietly from his lips before he'd had much of a chance to stop them. Being angry was easier than being scared, and the admission hurt.</p><p>If Ray was surprised by the shift in gears, he didn't show it. He just tightened his grip on Sonny's shoulder, nodded stiffly. "Clay and Jason are tough. They'll do their bit to hang in there. So, let's do our bit to find them."</p><p>A tense moment settled between them.</p><p>Eventually, Sonny nodded, shrugging away from Ray's grip.</p><p>"Come on." Ray jerked his head back towards the command room. "Let's head back inside, get our heads in gear."</p><p>Sonny swallowed jaggedly. He didn't like it. Every inch of him felt on edge, unable to shake the suspicion that someone in that room had sold out their boys. If they found out it was true, he would personally string the asshole up the flagpole by their balls.</p><p>Ray paused on the stairs, shot him a half-stern, half-pleading look. "No one in, no one out, remember?"</p><p>Sonny rolled his eyes.</p><p>"Your ass stays put." There was more than a gentle warning in Ray's tone. "Don't give the Hondurans any more reason to suspect it was one of us responsible for this. I convinced Blackburn I'd talk you down, but it was a one-time deal. You're not the only one struggling to keep your shit together right now."</p><p>Sonny felt guilt spike through him at Ray's words. They'd all had the rug pulled out from under them tonight, and they were <em>all</em> reeling. But, most importantly, Sonny wasn't the only one who'd just potentially lost his best friend.</p><p>STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST</p><p>The door to the room suddenly opened, and a burly man holding an AK-47 entered. His cool gaze skipped over Jason and Clay, his gun trained on them, and Jason recognized the blankness in his eyes as one that came from years of killing, living rough.</p><p>Burly stepped aside, allowing two more men to enter. One carried a matching rifle; the other held no gun - but the glint in his eyes seemed much more dangerous than any weapon. <em>Boss man</em>, Jason guessed, silently assessing and sizing up the three. He could tell by the gun-less man's styled black hair and tailored clothing that he had money, which, in these parts, very likely came from drugs.</p><p>Boss Man stepped forward, hands on his hips. His dark gaze bored into Jason's, before skipping to Clay. "Do you know who I am?" His voice was like gravel.</p><p>Jason attempted to square his shoulders, refusing to feel threatened by the stranger's tone. "No."</p><p>The man quirked a lip, his expression unsettling. "My name is Jose." He spoke the word like it should mean something.</p><p>Jason kept his expression blank.</p><p>Clay, for his part, remained silent. He would default to Jason in this situation, just as he'd been trained to do.</p><p>Jose huffed, seeming mildly perturbed by their lack of reaction. His gaze dropped to Miguel's body, and he kicked the dead man, before glancing back to his two live captives – as if gauging their response once again.</p><p>Jason bit down on a curse, keeping his expression as neutral as possible.</p><p>"Miguel here," Jose stated, dark amusement lining his tone, "thought he could trade you both for his brother."</p><p>Jason felt his stomach curl. By his side, he sensed Clay shift almost imperceptibly.</p><p>Jose laughed. "<em>His brother</em>." He kicked the dead man again. "Useless sack of shit, he was. Poor Miguel didn't realize his brother was long gone. But I decided to humor him, make the deal anyway." Icy eyes met Jason's once again. "After all, how could I pass up the opportunity to bag two of the US Navy's finest?"</p><p><em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>Jason swallowed roughly, making sure to keep his expression blank. He furrowed his brow, shook his head jerkily. "There must be some mistake," he tried, ensuring his voice trembled enough to be convincing. "We're not – we're not military."</p><p>He'd tested his binds, and he knew Clay had done the same. There was no way either of them could break free – let alone stand much of a chance with two armed men who looked more than a little trigger-happy.</p><p>Jose laughed, as if Jason had just delivered a punchline. He cast a look at one of his men, who joined in. And then, as abruptly as the laughter had started, it fell away - Jose's eyes regaining their previous chill. "I don't believe you," he stated, stepping towards Clay and dropping to a crouch.</p><p>If Jason could have got himself between Clay and the crazy man, he would have.</p><p>Jose reached out a hand, ran it menacingly down Clay's right arm – fingers stopping at the Bravo tattoo.</p><p>Thank God they weren't wearing their tags, Jason thought. They'd left them at base before they'd headed out to get food – common practice around here, they'd been told, as the military weren't exactly popular.</p><p>"I'm sorry about your clothing," Jose said, twitching a lip as Clay tried not to flinch at the unwelcome touch. "When we realized you were armed, we decided we couldn't be too careful, you know. I do hope you weren't fond of anything you were wearing."</p><p>Jason wanted to knock the man's hand off Clay's arm. He felt his skin bristling, breaths growing more jagged. He and Clay had carried handguns tucked into the waistbands of their trousers, but they hadn't been specifically marked as military, and there shouldn't have been anything else on them that gave their profession away. It seemed it was Miguel's word against theirs – which, hopefully, they could work with.</p><p>Jose let his hand linger a moment longer on Clay's skin, before withdrawing it. "I'm going to ask you a question," he instructed. "And you are going to answer."</p><p>Jason would see about that.</p><p>"I've heard whispers," Jose said, "that the Navy is planning a hit on the Delgado cartel. <em>My cartel</em>."</p><p>Jason recognized the name, but he had no idea what Jose was talking about. Miguel's team specialized in identifying and taking down local smugglers of all sorts, but Bravo had been there to help with training, not share intel. They hadn't been privy to any type of information regarding upcoming missions.</p><p>"I want to know the details." Jose pinned both Jason and Clay with an expectant look. "I want you to tell me when, and where."</p><p>Jason shook his head. "I don't – We don't know," he mock-stammered. "Like I said, there's been some mistake. We're not military. I – I'm friends with Miguel. We're on vacation. He was just showing us around -"</p><p>The backhand across Clay's jaw abruptly sent the younger man to the concrete floor. His head smacked against it, eyes squeezing closed as he bit back a groan.</p><p>Jason's anger flared, and it took all his will not to lash out – binds be damned.</p><p>"Wrong answer," Jose growled.</p><p>Jason's stomach clenched as he watched the dark-haired man lean down and grip Clay by the hair, jerk him upwards. Every part of him wanted to scream to let the kid go, but he fought down his response. Gaze smoldering, he sucked jagged breaths in and out through his nose.</p><p>Jose's lip curled. He glanced between the two men. Once again, he jerked on Clay's hair – smiling at Clay's small yelp, as well as Jason's barely-stifled flinch. He dropped his voice, directing his words at Jason. "Who is this boy, to you?"</p><p>Jason's skin prickled at the tone.</p><p>Jose still had a grip on Clay's hair, holding the younger man's head back at an awkward angle. Clay's exposed throat worked, and his eyes met Jason's - quiet resolve reflected there.</p><p>Jason wanted to pound the shit out of Jose.</p><p>Jose tightened his grip, breathing close to Clay's ear. His words remained aimed at Jason. "Your little team mate, I'm guessing? A brother in arms?" There was venom in his tone.</p><p>Jason pinned Jose with a dangerous look of his own. "I told you," he grit. "Miguel was lying. We're not military. We're here on vacation."</p><p>Anger flared behind Jose's eyes, and without warning he smacked Clay's head against the ground.</p><p>Clay's body went limp, sending a panicked jolt through Jason.</p><p>Jose was unrelenting. He knelt, knee pressing into the small of Clay's back – ready to keep him down should the kid wake up. "<em>Who is this boy to you</em>?"</p><p>Jason sensed the mad man wasn't going to let up until he had an answer. He swallowed roughly, mouth horribly dry as he regarded Clay's unmoving form. "He's my son." The admission was quiet, fractured.</p><p>Jose hesitated a moment, intensely studying Jason's expression. He pressed harder against Clay's back. "I pride myself on my ability to read people," he stated. "And either you're a very good liar, or suddenly my instincts are betraying me."</p><p>Jason's heart pounded against his ribs. He felt torn between wanting Clay to wake up - and hoping that the younger man stayed down to avoid another blow.</p><p>Jose straightened, roughly pushing his knee into Clay to boost himself up. The way he peered down at Clay's prone form set Jason's teeth on edge. "Never mind," he said, gaze drifting to Jason. "I have ways to make men like you talk."</p><p>Jason worked his jaw, heart still hammering. "I've told you the truth," he tried.</p><p>Jose smiled – a toothy grin that made Jason's skin crawl. He tilted his head, regarding Jason with a hint of mock-sympathy. "Oh, I don't plan on breaking <em>you</em>," he confessed, eyes traveling back to Clay. "I plan on breaking <em>him</em>."</p><p>Jason felt something cold stab through his gut.</p><p>"I have something that will make him tell the truth," Jose finished, eyes glinting ruefully. He turned, stalking abruptly back towards the door. "When he's awake, we'll see if his story matches yours, shall we?"</p><p>Jason felt himself shaking, though he tried to disguise his mounting anxiety. He watched Jose disappear back through the doorway.</p><p>The two armed men obediently followed him out, and the door was slammed shut, lock slid closed.</p><p>Silence settled, amplifying the sound of Jason's pounding heart as his mind churned.</p><p>Wriggling closer to Clay, he bumped an elbow against his boy. "Clay?" he prompted, heart in his throat. "You gotta wake up, buddy." He had no idea what Jose was planning, but the man's tone had sent dread curling through his gut.</p><p>Eyes skipping to Miguel's lifeless body, the chill within him expanded. He'd grown to like the Honduran team leader, and the betrayal stung.</p><p>"Clay?" He tried again, voice more than a little unsteady.</p><p>But Clay remained unmoving, face-down against the concrete floor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for the kind words :) I've decided to split this next bit off into a chapter of its own, so it's slightly shorter I'm sorry. Bit of a warning for violence (and language) - nothing drastic, but it's a bit gritty I suppose, so I feel like I should say something. Hope everyone is keeping well :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason was just starting to lose his grip on his rapidly rising panic, when Clay finally groaned and shifted.</p><p><em>Thank God</em>. "Clay?"</p><p>The younger man's body tensed, and he wriggled, managing to turn himself over. His movements were awkward, restricted by his binds. Once he was face-up, he lay on his back; eyes squeezed closed and chest hitching. There was blood in his left eyebrow, oozing from a split where his head had connected with the floor. The skin around the wound was puffy, already darkening with bruising.</p><p>Jason wanted to rip free of his binds, properly check the kid over – and then go and beat Jose to a pulp. Unfortunately, he had to settle for leaning as close as he could without toppling over, assessing his boy from a distance. "Open your eyes." He felt bad for the directness of his tone, but time was against them.</p><p>Clay grimaced. Obediently, he cracked his eyelids open, tried to focus on Jason.</p><p>Jason peered into dazed blue, noticing the tell-tale signs of a concussion. He cursed inwardly.</p><p>Clay looked like he wanted to shut his eyes again, but to his credit, he fought against it.</p><p>"Need you to stay with me," Jason encouraged, keeping his voice low. "We're alone, for now. But they'll be back."</p><p>Despite Clay's dazed state, Jason practically saw the moment reality slammed back into the kid. "Stay down, get your bearings," he cut in, when Clay tried to wobble upright. "Jose is coming back to question you." God, he hated having to relay that information. It felt too much like he was prepping his boy for a dash through hell. If he could, he would switch places in a heartbeat.</p><p>Clay's gaze found Jason's, and dazed blue turned a darker shade of steel - as if he'd taken the splinter of information, quickly processed it, and was prepared to face whatever came next. It was both reassuring and terrifying. "What's our play?" His tone was resolute.</p><p>Jason watched the rise and fall of Clay's chest - the jerkiness smoothing out, as the kid expertly measured his breathing and got himself under control. Jason did his best to mirror the action. "I told Jose that you were my son," he reported.</p><p>The briefest flicker of emotion played across Clay's features, but he hastily vanished it away and gave a tight nod. "Miguel was our friend. We're here on vacation." He filled in the other two bits of information; speaking mainly to himself, as if trying to solidify the false facts in his mind.</p><p>Jason found himself nodding in return, his stiff neck muscles protesting at the movement. Anxiety fizzed within him - ramping up in response to the determination lining Clay's expression, rather than dissipating because of it.</p><p>Clay remained laying on his back. The blood from his brow traced a crimson line sideways down his temple. His throat worked. "We're not getting out of here." The comment was quiet, nearly whispered.</p><p>Jason pursed his lips, chest tightening. He knew. He knew, as things stood, that they had little chance of escape. He also knew that once Jose was done with them, he'd kill them. But he couldn't focus on that without losing his mind, so instead he focused on their task at hand.</p><p>"We just need to hold out as long as we can," he stated – trying for reassuring, though there was little hope in his tone. "The guys will be looking for us." Of that, he was certain. "We just need to hang in there." <em>And hope that they find us in time</em>.</p><p>A flicker of sadness crossed Clay's features. Catching sight of it nearly broke Jason. Bravo Six wasn't even thirty – there were much older operators who had never had to face something like this. It didn't seem fair that Clay had been dealt such a shitty hand of cards. As for Jason, well … some days he was surprised he'd made it this far.</p><p>Clay squeezed his eyes closed briefly. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "It's my fault."</p><p>Jason scrunched his brow, caught off guard by the comment. "What is? This?" He was about to order Clay to stop being ridiculous, when the lock on the door slid open, and Jose reappeared. The unspoken words died on his tongue, his heart stalling.</p><p>Beside him, Clay tensed.</p><p>Jose stepped casually into the room, holding a small briefcase. His two armed friends entered behind him, one of them carrying a chair and a length of rope.</p><p>Jose stopped short of Jason and Clay, allowed a dark smile. His eyes settled on Clay. "Nice to see you awake." There was no warmth behind the greeting. He half-turned, gestured for the chair to be placed beside him. "Time for you and me to have a little talk, boy."</p><p>Jason's muscles were on fire, every part of him screaming for a fight. But all he could do was watch uselessly as Burly hoisted Clay from the floor, dumped him roughly onto the chair.</p><p>Clay winced, but he recovered quickly. His gaze remained slightly unfocused, but he managed to pin Jason with a grounding look, square his shoulders.</p><p>Jason frantically counted breaths, attempted to return the silent offer of solidarity – though he wasn't confident he pulled it off.</p><p>Jose placed the briefcase on the ground - conveniently facing it away from Jason to conceal its contents. He cast a crooked, mocking smile.</p><p>Burly roughly pulled Clay's bound wrists over the back of the chair. Clay shifted against the backwards strain on his shoulders. A rope was looped through his wrist and ankle binds, effectively hog-tying him around the chair's frame.</p><p>Jason hurt just looking at the awkward angle. He focused instead on Clay's chest, watching as his boy attempted to even out his breathing. This was his worst fucking nightmare. His job wasn't just to lead his men, it was to protect them - to make sure they all came home safely at the end of the day. And Clay, being his youngest, brought out a fire in him that stemmed from parental instincts, not just those of a team leader, amplifying that need to safeguard.</p><p>Jose crouched by the briefcase, popped it open and reached inside. He pinned Jason with a threatening look. "It goes without saying," he cautioned, "that if you try anything stupid, while I'm talking with your boy -" He nodded to each of his men. "My friends here wont hesitate to aerate you."</p><p>Jason refused to wilt under the threat, simply let his eyes skip between Burly and his slightly-less-burly friend, clenching his jaw. How he'd love to put holes in all of them. Unfortunately, he didn't have that hand to play.</p><p>Sensing his point had been taken, Jose straightened – a blade glinting in his hand. He approached Clay.</p><p>Clay eyed the blade, but he didn't flinch. They'd been trained for this. Whatever was coming, they'd been prepared for it, and Jason knew that Clay would draw on his skills.</p><p>"I'm going to ask you a question," Jose stated, much as he'd done earlier. "And you are going to answer me." He allowed the tip of his blade to kiss each of Clay's cheeks in silent warning.</p><p>Clay didn't pull away.</p><p>"I want to know the details of the hit planned on my cartel." The blade was brought to the center of Clay's chest, held there.</p><p>Jason could see the tip pressing against Clay's skin, just enough to create an indent, but not break through. His heart hammered violently. Mentally, he braced for what would inevitably come next.</p><p>Clay's answer was level, words as steady as they could be. "I don't know."</p><p>There was a moment's hesitation, and then Jose sliced – a quick flick of the wrist that sent a crimson line down Clay's sternum.</p><p>Clay hissed out of reflex, head dropping and breaths coming quickly in and out of his nose. He bit down hard on his lip as he watched the blood run down his front.</p><p>Jason struggled to maintain his composure. The cut wasn't deep – Jose knew what he was doing. It had to hurt like a bitch, though. Jason sought Clay's eyes, trying to offer some level of comfort and support.</p><p>Clay's gaze darted to his, before flicking back to Jose; resolute, defiant, and startlingly blue.</p><p>Jose gave a muttered tut-tut. "Wrong answer," he stated, studying the wetness of blood on his previously shiny blade. His cold eyes returned to Clay. "Let's try another question, shall we?"</p><p>This time, the blade was brought to Clay's stomach, the tip hovering just above his belly button.</p><p>Jose's lip twitched. "Are you military?" The words were spoken with a snarl.</p><p>Clay inclined his chin slightly, and Jason noticed the way the younger man tensed in anticipation. "No."</p><p>Jose retaliated with an abrupt horizontal slice just beneath Clay's ribs.</p><p>Clay stifled a cry – his body wanting to curl in on itself, but the restraints holding him back.</p><p>Jason struggled to keep his shit together. He shifted against his own binds, losing control of his breathing as he watched fresh blood trickle down Clay's belly, absorbed by the waistband of his boxer briefs.</p><p>"<em>I don't believe you</em>," Jose replied, words like daggers of their own.</p><p>Clay took a moment to regain his composure, chest hitching.</p><p>Jose took the time to slowly walk around the chair; a shark circling its prey. He played with the tip of his knife, picking at it with his fingers. Once he'd come full-circle, he stopped beside Clay's right leg, letting his gaze fall to Clay's thigh.</p><p>Jason felt his stomach drop, as the knife's blade ran menacingly along skin once more; tracing the knotted scar that he knew was visible there.</p><p>"Nasty scar," Jose murmured, tone dangerous. "Wounded in battle?"</p><p>Clay swallowed thickly, the briefest hint of discomfort flickering over his otherwise solid poker face. "Car accident," he lied.</p><p>Jose's lip quirked.</p><p>Jason realized he was shaking – vibrating, really. Suddenly he had a flash of Clay bleeding out in the gutter of that filthy Manila street. His ears began to ring, chest painfully constricting. It took all his strength to reground himself.</p><p>"Looks like a terrible injury," Jose mused, tilting his head as he regarded the scar. "Would have taken a long time to heal."</p><p>Jason's skin prickled, stomach in knots. He needed the man to step away from Clay. He needed to bury that God-damned knife in the asshole's eye socket. Rage sparked within him, fueled by the hint of fear he caught behind Clay's eyes.</p><p><em>Don't you fucking dare</em> –</p><p>His mind swirled, frantic for a way to break free of his binds.</p><p>"It would be a shame to open such a wound back up again." Jose's teeth glinted, and the smile he offered made Jason want to vomit.</p><p>Clay was shaking. Jason could see it now, as the blade pressed against the kid's scar. It fractured his insides.</p><p><em>God fucking damn it</em> –</p><p>"I'll ask you one more time," Jose said, voice low and deadly. "What do you know about the hit planned on my cartel?"</p><p>Clay visibly blanched. His bottom lip trembled, but he managed to tear his eyes from the blade to pin Jose with a cold look. "I <em>told</em> you," he growled, words lightly trembling. "I don't know <em>anything</em>."</p><p>Jose didn't miss a beat. He sliced along the scar, drawing a strangled cry from Clay.</p><p>Jason couldn't help himself. He jerked against his binds, eyes stinging. "<em>Please</em>," he begged. "He's telling the truth." The emotion in his tone wasn't completely out of place. It was the type of desperation a father would hold for his son. "<em>Please</em> -"</p><p>Jose laughed – a frigid, horrible laugh. He regarded Jason with amusement. "Hit a nerve there, did I?"</p><p>Clay's eyes were squeezed closed, his breaths jerky.</p><p>Jason bit down on his lip so hard that he broke skin. He glared at Jose. <em>I'm going to kill you</em>, was what he wanted to say. <em>I'm going to rip you limb from fucking limb</em>. But he swallowed it all down, the unspoken words caught like razor blades in his throat.</p><p>Clay's eyes cracked open. His gaze sought Jason's – flaring with a measure of unbroken resolve.</p><p>Jason's stomach clenched and burned. He regarded the drops of blood now upon the floor; running from Clay's wounded thigh, dripping from the chair.</p><p>Jose made his way back to his briefcase. Dropping to a crouch, he replaced his knife.</p><p>Jason's heart hammered violently as his eyes locked with their captor's.</p><p>Jose's expression darkened further. He drew his gaze away from Jason, and pinned Clay with an icy look. "Let's cut the crap, shall we?"</p><p>Clay attempted to pull himself straighter, defiantly squared his jaw.</p><p>Jason felt fear bristle through him, watching as Jose drew a vial from the case and held it up, inspecting it.</p><p>"Have you heard of sodium thiopental?" Jose kept his eyes on the vial, lip quirking unsettlingly.</p><p>Jason stiffened.</p><p>Clay swallowed jaggedly, eyes darting momentarily towards his team leader.</p><p>"Truth serum," Jose explained, reaching back into the case and withdrawing a syringe.</p><p>Jason and Clay didn't require an explanation. They knew what it was, and what it could do.</p><p>Jose straightened, cracking a nasty smile – once again the shark eyeing its prey. "Let's see how your story holds up now, shall we, boy?" He uncapped the syringe, inserted the sharp end into the vial.</p><p>Jason's stomach plummeted, taking any splinter of hope down with it.</p><p><em>Oh, fuck</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much to everyone who's left kind reviews. So greatly appreciated! :) Once again, apologies for any mistakes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two hours and eleven minutes.</p><p>That was how long Clay, Jason and Miguel had officially been missing.</p><p>Sonny wasn't coping with the fact that they were still confined to the base's command center. He stood, leaning against a desk, agitation radiating off him in waves. Beside him, Brock sat with Cerb, smoldering and fidgeting in silence - while Trent paced, and Ray did his best to keep the peace with the Honduran team.</p><p>The air within the room was charged, all of them walking a fine line between anger and anxiety, trying not to take it out on each other. Bravo were relegated to one corner; while Miguel's team hovered in another.</p><p>Sonny coolly regarded the foreign men he'd recently come to consider as his friends. It was unsettling just how quickly their newfound comradery had turned sour.</p><p>Multiple calls had been made, favors drawn upon. Blackburn and the Honduran CO were deep in discussion across the room. Even without following the conversation, Sonny could read the mounting tension reflected in their demeanor.</p><p>He blew out a breath, feeling his unrest ratchet up a notch. He'd promised Ray and Blackburn he would behave. This was him behaving. Though how long he could keep up the bullshit façade, he wasn't entirely sure.</p><p>The door opened, and Davis stepped back into the room. She'd been glued to her laptop, scanning satellite images since their boys had gone missing. She moved back to her seat, catching Sonny's eye and subtly gesturing for him to come join her.</p><p>Grateful for the distraction, Sonny pushed up from the table and closed the distance.</p><p>"You know," he grumbled, coming up beside her chair. "I find it unfair that you're granted a bathroom pass without question, while I gotta beg to go pee."</p><p>Davis brushed off the comment with a muttered, "I'm not a flight risk." She reached across, pushed out a neighboring chair. "Sit down."</p><p>Sonny frowned at the abruptness of her tone, obediently lowered himself into the chair.</p><p>Her fingers were unsteady as she maneuvered the laptop's touchpad mouse, expanding a previously minimized pop-up. Her eyes darted to Sonny.</p><p>He felt instantly on edge by the look he caught reflected there. "What is it?" he found himself asking, attention moving nervously between her and the screen.</p><p>She swallowed roughly. "See that?"</p><p>Sonny had no idea what he was looking at. He could see the stress lines around her mouth, the way her brow pinched – but the computer was a lot harder to read. He went to argue that Brock was the tech-savvy one, but Davis ploughed on.</p><p>"It's a beacon." She circled the cursor around the pop-up to draw his attention, pinned him with a weighty look.</p><p>Sonny tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Drew a blank. "What type of beacon?"</p><p>Davis propped an elbow on the desk, leaned into her palm. She did a quick scan of the room, as if double-checking they weren't being overheard. Once she was satisfied, she pursed her lips grimly. "The type of beacon that comes from one of our compact tracking devices," she answered tensely.</p><p>Sonny felt his brows draw together, processing her words.</p><p>Davis maneuvered the cursor. "See these?" The arrow passed over two sets of numbers. "Time-stamps. The first one reflects when the tracker was activated."</p><p>Sonny studied the number in question, a chill beginning to unfurl within him.</p><p>"And this one," Davis shifted the cursor, "is an alert. A built-in safeguard. The tracker is designed to send a beacon when it's been stationary for two hours."</p><p>Sonny's mouth suddenly felt dry. "Meaning?" He didn't like where this was going.</p><p>She shifted in her seat. "Sonny …" A shadow settled over her features. "The tracker was taken from our gear, stashed in Bravo's quarters." Her eyes glinted with intense worry. "I just confirmed that it was gone. And the time it was activated - it coincides with when the boys left base."</p><p>Sonny's stomach flipped as he joined the dots. "Clay went back to our quarters, before they headed out," he confirmed quietly. "Said he'd catch up with Jase and Miguel at the truck. Told them to wait for him."</p><p>She chewed her lip anxiously. "Why would he do that?" Her tone was rigid with urgency and concern. "Why would he stop to grab a tracker?"</p><p>A very heavy silence stretched between them.</p><p>Sonny threw his mind back, searching for any clue. Clay hadn't hinted that anything was wrong. He'd been a little quiet, of late, but Sonny had put it down to the fact that his best friend was trying to regain his footing within the team after being benched for so long. It suddenly bothered him that there may have been something he'd missed, overlooked.</p><p>"The only reason Clay would take a tracker," he stated unsteadily, "is if he was worried something might happen to him."</p><p>Davis rubbed at her forehead, looking about as shaken as Sonny felt. "Exactly. But what did he pick up on, that the rest of us didn't?"</p><p>Sonny had no idea. "He didn't say anything." He felt distress rising within him as his mind churned.</p><p>Davis let out a shuddering breath, drew herself together and brought their attention back to the laptop screen. "I honed-in on the beacon's location." She clicked on a satellite image, zoomed in. "It's transmitting about ten clicks from the take-out place." She let the cursor hover, darted him a sideways glance. "I've had a hard time tracking any of the vehicles, because they each took roads leading through dense forests – deliberately, no doubt. But one of the vehicles did head in this direction, and our transmission is coming from a point not too far from where I lost sight of it."</p><p>Sonny's skin prickled. "That's a solid lead."</p><p>Davis agreed. "You quietly tell the others," she said, nodding towards Bravo's corner. "I'll chat with Blackburn, see how he wants to play this. We need to find that tracker, ASAP."</p><p>"Doesn't look good for us," Sonny muttered under his breath. "Hondurans ain't gonna like it one bit." Hell, <em>he</em> didn't like it.</p><p>Davis' expression remained grim. "They're already suspicious of Clay," she agreed soberly.</p><p>Sonny cursed. He felt incredibly defensive of his boy. "Clay would have had a good reason for taking that tracker." His words were sharp with conviction. "Even if he didn't share it with us at the time." Despite the undeniable sting from the lack of communication, he had to trust in his little brother.</p><p>
  <em>His little brother who was missing. Very likely dead.</em>
</p><p>He let his eyes slip out of focus, staring through the laptop's screen. He barely felt Davis' touch against his arm.</p><p>"Sonny …" The word was a whisper, her tone shifting to something gentler.</p><p>It threatened to derail his already questionable composure, and Sonny swallowed thickly.</p><p>"If Clay had the tracker …" Gravity pulled against Davis' words. "And it's been stationary for just over two hours ..." Her voice trailed off.</p><p>Sonny let his eyes slip closed, as if that could prevent him having to face reality. "I'll go tell the others," he breathed, reopening his eyes and catching the brokenness reflected in hers. He went to push up from his chair, but stopped, caught by a lingering question. "Why tell me?" he asked. "Why not Blackburn, or Ray?"</p><p>Davis' eyes glinted with emotion, and she blinked rapidly, dropping her gaze to the floor. "Because it felt right that you should be the first to know," she answered quietly. "That you hear it from me."</p><p><em>Because it's Clay</em>. <em>Because this might be a recovery</em>.</p><p>Sonny swallowed against the constriction in his throat. His legs felt like jelly as he stood up. He appreciated it, even if it wasn't something that could truly be appreciated. He bobbed his head stiffly, an icy knife twisting in his gut. "Let's move our asses then," he replied hollowly.</p><p>If they did indeed find bodies alongside the tracker, then promises to Ray and Blackburn be damned – heads would roll, and he would be out for blood.</p><p>STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST</p><p>Clay was fracturing, Jason could see it. And, in turn, it caused him to fracture as well - though God knew he tried to steel himself, tried to catch and hold Clay's gaze as Jose prepared the syringe.</p><p>Clay's eyes were still hazy, but there was genuine fear glinting there – fear for what he might say, once the drug was administered.</p><p>Jason knew. He knew that Clay would likely break. Most people did, once they received sodium thiopental. If he could have, he would have told the younger man that it was okay - that whatever happened from here on in, it wouldn't be his fault.</p><p>But Jason couldn't throw down their hand of cards just yet. He had to bite his tongue, just in case. He could only hope that Clay saw the emotion in his eyes – the silent acceptance, the nod to their efforts so far; and the reassurance that there would be no blame.</p><p><em>We're not getting out of here</em>.</p><p>Jason's heart ached. He'd been willing to deny it before, but now it seemed likely. He thought about his kids – about Ray, and the rest of their brothers; all the things he'd miss, as well as all the people who would miss him. He'd prepared for this moment many times over, and yet, now that it was here, he wasn't ready.</p><p>He wasn't ready because, in all his preparation, he'd never imagined his boy would go down with him.</p><p>Burly held Clay still, while Jose found a vein. The extra restraint wasn't necessary, as the binds were unyielding – it simply served to prove how helpless Clay was in that moment, which was a nasty blow.</p><p>Clay flinched as the syringe was depressed.</p><p>Jason's breath hitched, jagged, his stomach in knots. Desperately, he sought Clay's swimming gaze, trying one last time to reassure the younger man that he wasn't alone.</p><p>Burly stepped back, and Jose rounded Clay's chair, eyes glinting.</p><p>The dark-haired man cast a mocking look towards Jason, the corner of his lip twitching. "Let's get some answers, shall we?"</p><p>Jason seethed. He pinned his eyes on Clay, steeling himself and setting his jaw.</p><p>Clay, for his part, sat less rigid in the chair. The drug was fast-acting, and already his muscles had relaxed, his jagged breathing slowed. His eyelids drooped, but they didn't close; their blue now completely unfocused. His chin dipped, head lolling slightly. He remained conscious – hovering precariously in that place between awake and asleep.</p><p>Jose came up in front of Clay, gripped his chin and roughly jerked the younger man's face upwards. "I'm going to ask you some questions," he stated darkly. "And you are going to answer them."</p><p>Jason felt a growl vibrate in his throat. He didn't try to mask it. The man sounded like a broken fucking record.</p><p>Jose dropped Clay's chin, stepped back.</p><p>Clay's head tilted forward, the kid lacking the energy and muscular control to lift it back up again.</p><p>Jason was shaking, sweating. At least Clay would be too out of it to know what was coming, once Jose learned the truth and decided to kill them.</p><p>"First question," Jose announced, clasping his hands and rubbing his palms together. He circled Clay's chair. "Is the Navy planning a hit on the Delgado cartel?"</p><p>When Clay didn't immediately answer, the dark-haired man slapped him.</p><p>Jason couldn't help the curse that spilled from his lips.</p><p>"I don't … know." Clay's voice was quiet, strained. Jose's strike had knocked his face in Jason's direction, but he slowly rolled it back towards the front again.</p><p>Jason's lip twitched at the irritation that played over Jose's features.</p><p>
  <em>Suffer in your jocks, asshole.</em>
</p><p>The dark-haired man's gaze traveled briefly to Jason, before he struck out and punched Clay in the stomach.</p><p>Jason felt the wind leave his own lungs. He bit down his retort, worried that it might cause more grief for Clay. It burned and smoldered within him.</p><p>Clay coughed, nearly gagged, squeezed his eyes closed.</p><p>Jose had to know that he couldn't hurt Clay too badly, if he wanted to keep the kid conscious. He took a moment to regain his composure, as well as allowing Clay the time to get himself back under control. "We'll move on to the next question, then." Agitation sparked through his tone – much to Jason's satisfaction.</p><p>Clay's eyes were half-mast again, lids bobbing in slow motion.</p><p>Jose leaned close to Clay's face. "What is the true purpose of your trip to Honduras?"</p><p>Jason held his breath.</p><p>"Downtime," Clay murmured. "Meant to be … a break."</p><p>Jose wasn't at all happy with that response.</p><p>Jason sat, frozen, unable to draw breath.</p><p>Jose slapped Clay again, roughly grabbed his face and twisted it towards Miguel's body, nearly toppling the chair. "Who was he, to you?"</p><p>Clay's throat worked, and Jason noticed the kid's eyes rolling slightly. If Jose kept up the brutality, then perhaps Clay might pass out. Jason hated how much he hoped for that.</p><p>"He was …" Clay rasped, voice dropping away. "A friend."</p><p>Jose's frustration ratcheted up a notch. It was obvious the answers weren't what he'd been hoping for. Angrily, he jerked Clay's face towards Jason, gripping him tightly around his chin and jaw. "And who is <em>this</em> man, to you?"</p><p>For a moment, Jason's eyes locked onto glazed blue. His heart hammered violently.</p><p>"He's …" Clay's gaze drifted, though he tried to pull it back. "He's … my Dad."</p><p>Jason barely held it together at that. The shockwave that traveled through him nearly sent him to the floor. He forced himself steady, hoping like hell that he hadn't just given the lie away. <em>You're still in there, kid</em>, he thought breathlessly. <em>Somehow</em> … Against the odds.</p><p>Jose dropped Clay's chin, strode quickly away from the chair – spun, and strode back again, his expression stormy. He threw a glare at Jason.</p><p>Jason felt unease prickle through him. Things weren't going to Jose's plan, and it was only a matter of moments before the dark-haired man had had enough. The asshole was losing his composure, and Jason knew how dangerous men like him could be, when their sense of control was threatened.</p><p>"I don't have time for this," Jose growled.</p><p>By the closed door, Burly shifted, fingers eagerly twitching against his weapon's trigger.</p><p>Jason's eyes skipped between their three captors, feeling like perhaps he and Clay were reaching the end of the line. He strained against his wrist binds, pulling until they cut skin. But it was no use.</p><p>Jose approached Clay once again, getting in his face. He lifted a foot and dug it heartlessly into the wound on Clay's thigh, twisted the sole of his shoe against it.</p><p>Even in Clay's drugged state, he groaned, let out a small whimper.</p><p>Jason found himself wanting to break the man into pieces. He had to trust that their brothers would take care of it, once this was all over. Jose would get what was coming to him, of that he was sure.</p><p>"Last question," Jose spat, grinding his shoe one last time into Clay's thigh.</p><p>Jason saw blood running out from under the sole. He tore his eyes away, seeking Clay's now dangerously drifting gaze.</p><p>Jose lowered his foot back to the ground, gripped Clay by the hair and jerked his face upwards. "<em>Are you military?</em>"</p><p>Jason's heart stalled. He braced for what he knew would inevitably come next.</p><p>But Clay's eyes rolled. His lids sagged, and he passed out.</p><p>Jose cursed viciously.</p><p>Jason didn't know whether to laugh or cry at his boy's impeccable timing. If nothing else, the kid had pissed their captor off something rotten. Jason couldn't help the broken smile that cracked across his lips, as he thought about how Clay had always excelled at rubbing people up the wrong way.</p><p><em>That's my boy</em>. A stubborn little shit, right until the very end.</p><p>Jose's anger bubbled over. Furiously, he lashed out, kicking Clay and the chair over backwards.</p><p>Jason flinched at how hard Clay hit the ground. Whatever concussion the younger man had, it was now probably worse.</p><p>Jose muttered a string of curses, before coming to stand before Jason.</p><p>Jason squared his aching shoulders, set his jaw, and met the man's cold eyes. "I <em>told</em> you," he grit. "We were telling the truth."</p><p>Jose's expression darkened. He kept his gaze locked on Jason. "A word of advice," he stated frostily. "Next time you want a father-son vacation, do what normal people do -" He turned, nodded stiffly at Burly, before turning his eyes back. "<em>Go fishing</em>."</p><p>Jason went rigid as Burly grabbed him, hauled him to his feet. He would have attempted a head-butt, but the man stayed infuriatingly out of reach.</p><p>"I don't have time for any more bullshit from you two," Jose announced, irritability sparking off him in waves. He turned to his other armed man, waved angrily at Clay's unconscious form. "Get him up. Untie him."</p><p>The other man obliged – roughly.</p><p>Jason's stomach plummeted, his heart pounding frantically. The only reason they would untie Clay, was if they were sure he wouldn't run. <em>This is it</em>, he realized grimly. The end of the road. He attempted to mentally brace, but emotion threatened to overtake him. He struggled in Burly's grasp, but the man's grip was like a vice.</p><p>"As fun as it's been," Jose stated, brushing off his sleeves. "I have someone waiting on me. Business to attend to." With another wave, Clay was dragged towards the door, and Jason felt himself being jerked along behind.</p><p>They exited the small room, into the cavernous space of a gutted warehouse. A single wall light lit their immediate area, sending the roof beams reaching into shadows. Through a cracked window, Jason could see the inky black of night. How long had it been, since the flash-bang at the take-out joint? He'd lost track of time. It likely didn't matter, anymore.</p><p>Roughly, they were dragged towards another door – this one metal, weighty looking, with a bulky handle.</p><p>Jose pulled the door open, its rusty hinges squealing in protest. The room beyond was small, narrow – an old walk-in freezer, by the looks of it. Jose's lip quirked maliciously. "Truth serum or not," he said, narrowing his eyes at Jason. "I still don't quite believe your story."</p><p>Jason swallowed roughly, stiffening as he watched Clay unceremoniously shoved through the doorway.</p><p>The younger man crumpled like a sack of bones upon the concrete floor, limp limbs splaying.</p><p>Jose approached Jason, his dark eyes glinting. "I'm not usually known for my mercy." His words were sharp. "But I'm feeling generous today." He offered a wicked smile. "And I've enjoyed our time together."</p><p>Jason got the feeling they were empty words, and Jose's version of generosity didn't align with most people's.</p><p>Jason was nudged towards the doorway. He struggled, but there was little point.</p><p><em>Now would be a really fucking good time to show up, guys</em>, he thought desperately, mentally reaching out to his brothers.</p><p>"I'll remove your binds, so you have a fighting chance," Jose offered. "But I have to warn you…" He cracked another grin – once again the shark. "The old freezer is air-tight, so I wouldn't hold my breath thinking you'll get out." He paused, backtracked. "Oh wait," he laughed bitterly. "Actually, holding your breath would be a good idea."</p><p>Jason didn't have much of a chance to reply. Something hard and blunt cracked him in the back of the head.</p><p>Abruptly, he fell into darkness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much everyone for reading :) Hopefully you're staying well. Just a friendly reminder that my stories are for entertainment purposes only, and will not hold up in a court of law. Mistakes, stretched truths - they're all mine, and I apologise in advance for them. x</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sonny's fingers curled tightly around his nearest grab handle, as the van bounced along a dark, pothole-filled dirt road. Each jarring bump caused his stomach to clench harder, and the dread within him to dig its claws just a little deeper.</p><p>Ray sat up front, shadowed eyes fixed somewhere beyond the windshield. Every now and then he exchanged tight words with Felipe, the Honduran 2IC who sat in the driver's seat. But otherwise he remained silent – bracing, like the rest of them, for what they might find once they arrived at the tracker's location.</p><p>Felipe was the only member of Miguel's team who'd come with them. Blackburn had been hesitant to inform the Honduran CO of the beacon, but he'd eventually concluded that keeping it secret would only bite them in the ass later. If they wanted to find their men, then they all needed to work together – and that meant sharing information or leads.</p><p>The Hondurans weren't happy. They'd suggested again that perhaps Clay had known something was going to happen. However, Blackburn had quickly shot down that theory, arguing that the only reason Clay would have taken the device was if he'd been suspicious of something. The fact that Bravo Six hadn't communicated those suspicions was a moot point (although Sonny knew it would no doubt be raised privately). Perhaps Clay had been waiting for the right moment, or perhaps he'd been gathering facts. Whatever the case, sitting around debating wasn't helping their guys. Blackburn requested that Bravo be given a vehicle to retrieve the tracker, and, after a few more tense moments, the Honduran commander had agreed – provided Felipe escort them.</p><p>Sonny glanced across the small floor space to the opposite bench seat, where Trent and Brock each clung to their own grab handles.</p><p>Cerb sat, wedged between Brock's knees, swaying with the vehicle's jerks and bumps. His ears were pinned back, and he had an anxious air about him. Whining, he leaned his muzzle against Brock's thigh – though whether he was seeking or offering comfort, Sonny wasn't entirely sure. Brock's hand absently found fur, fingers gently carding, eyes distant.</p><p>Trent's gaze was glued to the windshield, his mind elsewhere. Possibly running through worst-case medical scenarios, Sonny guessed. Bravo Four's well-stocked med pack sat on the floor by his feet, and Sonny found his eyes snagging on it, grimly wondering whether they would be lucky enough to need it – or whether they would be too late.</p><p>Their guys had been missing for over two and a half hours. The Honduran authorities had relayed suspicions that one of the local cartels was responsible, but so far, no witnesses had been game enough to label which one. The fact that there were multiple to choose from spoke of the very problem Miguel and his team were trying to stamp out. And another worrying consideration was that no ransom had been demanded, no hostage videos uploaded; the absence of which suggested that their guys had more than likely been executed.</p><p>Sonny swallowed roughly, stomach rolling.</p><p>They were all feeling it – the tension, the worry, the threat of a reality without their brothers. Lots of terrible things happened to people in these parts of the world. Just because Jason and Clay were tier one operators, didn't mean they were invincible. They were human. They could be caught off guard, just like anybody else. They could disappear, just as well as anybody else.</p><p>Sonny shook his thoughts into some semblance of order. As hard as it was, he owed it to his brothers not to give up hope – not get drawn into that black hole. Clay had taken the tracker, for whatever reason. Now they needed to find it.</p><p>… And pray it wasn't still attached to their kid.</p><p>"Pull it over." Ray gestured for Felipe to stop the vehicle.</p><p>The Honduran 2IC obliged, bumping roughly off the edge of the already unforgiving road, cutting the lights and the engine.</p><p>"HAVOC, this is Bravo Two," Ray spoke quietly into his comms as he unclipped his belt. "We're half a click from the tracker's signal. How copy?"</p><p>They were sweating in full gear. Sonny flicked down his NODs and gripped his rifle, sliding down the bench seat towards the rear doors.</p><p>"Good copy, Bravo Two," came Blackburn's confirmation. "Proceed with caution. Canopy is too thick to see you clearly."</p><p>"Copy that." Ray nodded over his shoulder towards Sonny.</p><p>Sonny popped the back door, as Ray and Felipe exited the front. Rifles were raised, their immediate area hastily scanned. The dirt road was uneven under foot, and Sonny nearly rolled his ankle in a pothole, bit back the resulting curse.</p><p>"Brock, you and Cerb have point," Ray directed quietly.</p><p>They fell into single file, with Sonny bringing up the rear. Normally, it didn't bother him being last man, but today he grappled with mixed feelings – both wanting to be the first to lay eyes on what they were dealing with; and wanting to stay in denial for as long as possible.</p><p>The road was narrow, with dense rainforest either side. It was an access road, as far as they'd been able to tell from the map – forking off to various other roads that wound their way through the area. There were very few buildings, making the likelihood of a body dump frighteningly high.</p><p>Sonny counted breaths, in time with his steps – once again pulling himself away from that dark hole. He forced his focus back on their eerily quiet surroundings, scanning for threats. His tac gear was heavy, uncomfortable in the oppressive humidity. Catching the sound of an animal, somewhere high in the canopy, he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle – reminding him again why he hated places like this.</p><p>Once they approached their target area, Ray tapped Brock's shoulder and their collective steps slowed.</p><p>Sonny steeled himself. He did another quick sweep of the road behind them, once again checking that they had no company. Directly ahead of him, Felipe's fingers flexed anxiously against his rifle.</p><p>Sonny swallowed roughly, studying the Honduran's back. Bravo weren't the only one missing a brother, he reminded himself soberly. He'd caught the deep-set worry and fear in Felipe's eyes. He'd seen the way the Honduran 2IC had interacted with Miguel - the two of them were close; best friends close. And Felipe was hurting just as much as any of them, not knowing what had happened to his friend.</p><p>"HAVOC, this is Two," Ray whispered over comms. "Approaching tracker's location now."</p><p>Even over the slight crackle of the radio, Sonny heard the tension in Ray's normally level tone. This was Jason and Clay – the bookends of their team. Their oldest, and youngest brothers. <em>Their best friends</em>. Were the two of them laying in a ditch, just up ahead – dumped for the dogs?</p><p>Sonny had faced many awful things in his time, but this was up there with one of the hardest.</p><p>"Copy that," came Blackburn's equally tight reply. "Standing by."<em> Bracing for bad news</em>, was the message between his words.</p><p>Inching forward, Sonny felt himself shaking. Part of him wanted to turn tail and run – the other part needed to know.</p><p>Cerb whined, pulling against his leash – which did nothing to put them at ease.</p><p>They fanned out, circling the spot, and Sonny's breath caught as his eyes finally caught on familiar shoes and clothing.</p><p>But no bodies.</p><p>A shockwave of relief traveled through them, though they each knew better than to voice it aloud. No bodies didn't necessarily mean their boys were alive – it just meant they weren't <em>here</em>. Which was its own difficult pill to swallow.</p><p>Ray motioned for them to hang back, while Cerb sniffed the items, checking for any signs of explosives or traps.</p><p>Once the dog was done, Brock nodded stiffly at Ray.</p><p>Sonny moved forward, grabbing the shirt he recognized as Clay's. Beside it were his little brother's trousers, and a few feet away, his boots. As grateful as Sonny was not to be kneeling over Clay's dead body, he felt anger bubble at the fact that someone had laid hands on his boy enough to strip him down.</p><p>"It's scattered," Trent observed. "Like it was tossed from a vehicle."</p><p>Ray straightened from his crouch, clutching Jason's shirt. He sought Brock. "Is Cerb picking up anything else?"</p><p>Sonny knew what Bravo Two was asking. <em>Can Cerb tell if their bodies have been dumped further down the road</em>?</p><p>Brock walked Cerberus around the area, observing the dog's behavior. Eventually he shook his head.</p><p>So, Jason and Clay weren't in the immediate area. Didn't mean they weren't dead on the side of some other road, Sonny concluded grimly.</p><p>Ray's shoulder's sagged marginally – a little relief, a little defeat. "Sonny," he stated, coming back to a crouch and snagging Jason's trousers, shaking them out. "Grab up Clay's things, let's find this tracker."</p><p>Sonny was already checking Clay's trouser pockets.</p><p>"HAVOC, this is Bravo Two," Ray spoke stiffly as he worked. "We've located Bravo One and Bravo Six's clothing and shoes. No bodies."</p><p>Sonny grabbed one of Clay's boots, reached inside. His fingertips brushed against something wedged in the toe-end, and he hurriedly pried it out, held it up to Ray.</p><p>"Tracker has been located," Bravo Two relayed.</p><p>Sonny studied the compact tracking device. <em>The hell were you thinking, Bam Bam?</em> It bothered him immensely that Clay had taken the time to shove this in his shoe before heading out. On one hand, he was grateful, as it had provided their only lead. But on the other …</p><p>"That's a good copy, Bravo Two," Blackburn replied, a splinter of relief evident. "RTB. We'll regroup."</p><p>Sonny curled his fingers around the tracker, pushed unsteadily to his feet. Beside him, Ray straightened. They grabbed up the clothing and shoes and stuffed them into their packs.</p><p>"Copy that," Ray replied, gesturing for Brock to once again take point. "You heard the man. Let's get out of here."</p><p>Sonny noticed Felipe hesitate, staring down at where the items had been.</p><p>Ray paused, clasped the Honduran's shoulder. "We'll find them," he stated, somehow managing to sound convincing. "Chances are, all three of our guys were in the vehicle that came this way. And if anyone can find where it went, it's Davis."</p><p>Felipe didn't reply, just nodded stiffly.</p><p>They fell back into single file, Sonny bringing up the rear once again. His limbs were wobbly with adrenaline. He agreed with Ray – if anyone could figure out where their missing brothers had been taken from here, it was his girl. He just prayed that Davis figured out their next move, fast.</p><p>STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST</p><p>Jason startled awake. His eyelids fluttered open, and his fuzzy brain registered nothing but inky black.</p><p>Panic shot through him.</p><p>Slamming his eyes closed, he forced himself calm, took stock of his situation; internal and external, deep breaths.</p><p>
  <em>The fuck happened?</em>
</p><p>He couldn't shake the unsettling sense of déjà vu. He'd woken like this once already today.</p><p>Muttering a curse, he reached up to probe the tender lump at the back of his head. It was dry, no broken skin. But it hurt like a bitch. With a start, he realized his binds were gone, and he could move his arms and legs freely.</p><p><em>I'll remove your binds, so you have a fighting chance</em>.</p><p>Jose's last words drifted back, and Jason fought the growl that threatened to erupt within him.</p><p>God damn it, he and Clay were in a fucking walk-in freezer.</p><p>Senses in overdrive, he registered the stuffy air, the silence pressing in on them. At least the damned thing was off. Was it broken, or had Jose cut the power deliberately? Warmer air meant that they would breathe quicker – suffocate faster. Perhaps that was the plan, after all.</p><p>Jason groaned, rolled to his side. The darkness was disorienting, and he blinked against it. Pushing into a sitting position, he felt carefully around.</p><p>"Clay?"</p><p>Ears straining, he listened for his boy's breathing.</p><p>Heard nothing.</p><p>Feeling around some more, he tried to visualize the room, drawing on the memory of what he'd seen before he'd been knocked out. At a guess, he estimated it was six by fifteen feet, completely empty.</p><p>His hand struck skin, and he grabbed, wrapping fingers around Clay's limp foot.</p><p>"Clay?"</p><p>He gave a light squeeze, a jostle, worked his way up the leg.</p><p>Clay didn't stir, but thankfully was breathing. He lay on his front, face turned to the side from what Jason could feel.</p><p>Gently, Jason took him by the bare shoulders, lifted him upright. Then he scooted back, carefully pulling Clay along until his own back met the freezer wall.</p><p>Propping Clay up against his chest, Jason kept one arm braced against the kid's left shoulder, whilst using the other hand to blindly assess his boy's wounds.</p><p>Clay's breathing was shallow, his pulse slower than normal. A tremor vibrated through him - all likely side-effects of the drug. Keeping his touch as light as possible, Jason traced the cut on Clay's chest, before moving to the one under his ribs.</p><p>Thankfully, both had just about stopped bleeding. As far as knife wounds went, they were relatively shallow; a deliberate move, on Jose's part. Jason had no doubt the man could have done a lot more damage, and probably would have, had he not been fishing for information.</p><p>Shifting Clay to the left, Jason leaned forward, feeling for the wound on Clay's right thigh. Warm wetness met his fingertips, and he cursed, hastily pressing his palm against it, helpless to do much else.</p><p>There was nothing to clean the various cuts with, and nothing to cover them. Luckily, the amount of blood coming from Clay's thigh wasn't excessive. Once again, the gash was deliberately shallow - although Jose's heartless stomping had roughened its edges, tearing deeper into scar tissue.</p><p>Jason felt his stomach clench. If Clay didn't get an infection, it would be a miracle. Then again, perhaps the true miracle would be if they survived long enough for an infection to even be a possibility.</p><p>"C'mon, buddy," Jason coaxed, readjusting Clay's weight against his chest.</p><p>Clay's head rolled with the movement.</p><p>Jason felt the knots of Clay's Manila scar under his palm, and his mind unhelpfully threw images of his boy laying in the street after the bombing, bleeding his life away. Hastily, he batted the memories away.</p><p>This wasn't then. That wasn't now. They had other things to worry about … Like how long before they reached critical levels of carbon dioxide in the air they were breathing, and died.</p><p>Squeezing his eyes closed against the darkness, as if that could help him think more clearly, Jason mentally ran through options.</p><p>He could try to break open the door; although logic told him it was locked tight, and he would expend a hell of a lot of energy doing so, accelerating their rate of suffocation.</p><p>He could yell for help; although he'd seen the size of the warehouse beyond the closed door and knew that his voice would be lost, making it pointless.</p><p>Aside from those two useless ideas, there really wasn't much else he could do but wait and hope that their team found them soon.</p><p>Blinking against darkness once more, Jason focused on his breathing – keeping slow, steady inhales and exhales. The calmer he remained, the less air he would use, and the longer he and Clay would be able to hold out.</p><p>Pressing against the wound on Clay's thigh, Jason held his focus on his boy. Right now, his best option was to bring his world in.</p><p>His mind tried to drift, taunt him with thoughts of his kids, his team mates. Stubbornly, he jerked it back each time, refusing to go there.</p><p><em>Three-foot world</em>.</p><p>Or perhaps, in this case, six by fifteen feet …</p><p>Time passed. Jason wasn't sure how long. He tried to count, attempting to do the math on their air supply.</p><p>Two people, in this sized space … He guessed they had approximately three hours before they started to feel pretty darn shit.</p><p>A lot could happen in three hours.</p><p>Their brothers could find them, in that time.</p><p>It was a splinter of hope that Jason forced himself to latch onto.</p><p>Clay's head rolled gently against Jason's shoulder, snatching his attention. Half a heartbeat passed, and then suddenly, without much more warning, the younger man was conscious – and panicking.</p><p>"Hey -" Jason struggled to keep his hand pressed against Clay's thigh, not lose his grip on the kid. "Hey, Clay, easy -"</p><p>Clay fought a few more moments, and then abruptly stilled, panting. "Jase-?"</p><p>"Right here, kid."</p><p>Clay's trembling had quickly turned violent, every muscle rigid. "I – I can't see, I can't -"</p><p>Jason tightened his grip against Clay's shoulder. "It's okay," he hastily reassured. "It's dark. We're -" He was about to explain their situation, when Clay's attention suddenly shifted to the pressure against his thigh, and fresh panic sparked.</p><p>"My leg -" Clay squirmed, attempting to twist away whilst kicking weakly and pushing at Jason's hand. "Fuck, my leg -"</p><p><em>Shit</em>.</p><p>Jason held him firm. "Leg's fine, buddy," he rushed. "It's just a cut. It's fine. I promise -"</p><p>But Clay's panic was fueled by nightmares of an injury that nearly cost him his life – a rehabilitation that had nearly spelled the end of his career. And, coming off the drug, with a bonus concussion, he wasn't thinking clearly right now.</p><p>"My leg -" he gasped. "Jase, my leg - it hurts, it's -"</p><p>Jason felt his own breath hitch, chest tightening. God, he wanted Jose to suffer a slow and painful death for this. He released the pressure on the wound, hoping that it might help snap Clay out of it. Out of reflex more than anything, he wrapped both arms around his boy's chest and held him close.</p><p>Clay's panic eased somewhat, though he remained rigid, gasping.</p><p>"Leg's fine," Jason repeated, speaking close to the younger man's ear. "<em>I promise</em>." His heart hammered, and he could feel Clay's doing the same against his arms. "I've got you."</p><p>Clay shook violently, breaths still jagged. He lifted an arm up, clamped fingers around Jason's bicep, as if attempting to ground himself.</p><p>"You're okay." Jason's voice wavered, nearly breaking at the tell-tale dampness of tears as Clay's cheek brushed his chest. "You're okay." Was he trying to convince Clay, or himself?</p><p>Because they really weren't fucking okay.</p><p>Clay nodded jerkily.</p><p>And Jason swallowed roughly, figuring he'd give the kid a few moments to reorient and gather himself - before breaking that colossally bad news.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks again, for all the encouraging comments - I appreciate every one of them so so much! Hope you're staying well, wherever you are. Thanks for reading :) :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sonny couldn't tear his eyes away from Clay's clothing and boots, laid out upon the table next to Jason's.</p><p>They were back at the base's command center, and Blackburn was talking, but the words were barely registering as Sonny's focus remained caught on his little brother's belongings.</p><p>Anger tingled across his knuckles, as he thought about the fact that someone had stripped their team mates down, disposed of their clothing and shoes as if they meant nothing. Had they done the same with their bodies? Were Jason and Clay laying in a ditch somewhere, alone in the dark?</p><p>Sonny struggled to draw breath, feeling like a vice was clamped around his chest. His eyes flicked to Davis. He knew she was working – of course she was working. But he needed her to work faster. Their guys had been gone way too long already, and with every passing second, their chances of finding them alive decreased substantially.</p><p>The Honduran team were hovering, their CO talking on and off – Spanish, English, Spanish. Sonny couldn't keep up. He also couldn't help the suspicion he held towards the lot of them. Something had tipped Clay off, and until they knew exactly what that was, Sonny would remain wary. Where were <em>Miguel's</em> clothes and shoes?</p><p>Blackburn said something about Miguel's cell phone being recovered. It had been found in the gutter outside the take-out joint, deliberately smashed. Authorities had been able to identify it as belonging to the Honduran team leader, but so far hadn't been able to pull any data off it. The data could prove helpful, Blackburn stated. And Sonny didn't miss the way the Honduran commander bristled, brushed off the suggestion - nor did he miss the glance Blackburn ricocheted off Ray, in response to the hasty dismissal.</p><p>Blackburn pulled his shoulders straighter, sidled closer to Ray. The rest of them subtly brought it in.</p><p>"Take a breather," Blackburn told them – and his tone suggested it was more of an order than a request. "Grab a bite to eat." His gaze flicked between the four of them. "I'm going to ask that the Honduran team do the same. I think their CO and I need to have a chat."</p><p>Sonny raised a brow. Blackburn had his no-nonsense tone. Shit was about to get real.</p><p>"Clay took that tracker for a reason," Blackburn stated, voice low. "And I trust our boy's gut."</p><p>Ray huffed, arms folded tightly over his chest. "Kid does have a knack for sniffing out trouble."</p><p>Blackburn's expression was stony. "He sniffed out <em>something</em>. And I can't help but feel that the only real possibility was Miguel – whether his CO wants to accept it, or not."</p><p>They each murmured their agreement.</p><p>Ray broke the stiff silence that followed. "Let's clear out, then. C'mon guys." He motioned towards the door.</p><p>Sonny took one last look at Clay's clothing and boots, gut twisting. Sensing eyes on him, he shifted his gaze - his eyes colliding with Davis'.</p><p>She nodded tightly; a silent promise. She would find that vehicle.</p><p>Sonny released a painful breath. Jerkily, he nodded back. Then he followed his brothers out of the command room, and into the oppressive night.</p><p>"Sonny," Ray called, sensing him branch off from the rest of them once they were outside. "Where are you going? Need to eat, brother."</p><p>But Sonny's stomach churned. If he ate, he would vomit. His eyes skipped between his remaining team mates. They all looked like shit. "I'll meet you back at our quarters," he replied, words brittle. "Need to take a walk. Get some air." He was starting to feel punchy again, fragility creeping in.</p><p>Ray opened his mouth to argue – but seemed to think better of it.</p><p>"We'll grab you some food," Trent offered.</p><p>Sonny gave a half-assed salute. He had no doubt their medic would force-feed him, if need be, to make sure he didn't fall over at some point. It could end up being a very long night. God, how many of those had they faced, on various ops that had gone to hell?</p><p><em>Too fucking many</em>.</p><p>And yet, this one felt significantly worse than any others Sonny could recall. Perhaps because it was meant to be a break, an easy spin-up; and Jason and Clay disappearing had caught them entirely off guard.</p><p><em>The only easy day was yesterday</em>.</p><p>Sonny's anger sparked some more as he stalked away, seeking something to hit or kick. He'd always hated that God-damned saying.</p><p>Mainly because it was right.</p><p>STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST</p><p>Jason finished his quick check of the freezer's door. It was sealed tight - of course. He'd felt obliged to double-check, at least, simply because it seemed foolish not to.</p><p>"Not like … they would make it easy on us," Clay murmured through the darkness from his place on the floor, where Jason had left him propped against the wall. A worrying slur lingered between the younger man's words, but thankfully he'd come down from his panic and had regained his bearings.</p><p>Feeling his way along the wall, Jason slowly made his way back towards Clay. His legs were unsteady, the floor tilting as he stepped. His head pounded relentlessly, and every now and then he caught sight of stars in the darkness. Once he bumped gently against Clay, he put his back to the wall and slid down.</p><p>"Keeping pressure on your leg?" Jason asked, as his ass hit the floor. He hated not being able to see, to check Clay over properly.</p><p>"Yeah," Clay replied. He released a fragile sigh. "Sorry again, for freaking out ..."</p><p>Jason reached over, patted the kid's shoulder gently. "Nothing to apologize for." He'd seen tough-as-nails operators crumble for less. Just the fact that Clay had been able to regain his bearings, given the state he was in, spoke volumes of his resolve – or his stubbornness. One of the two.</p><p>Clay released another wobbly breath, still shuddering with post-drug tremors. "And 'm sorry … that I couldn't hold out, with Jose."</p><p>Jason felt his brow furrow. He tilted his face towards the younger man, despite not being able to see through the thick darkness. "What are you talking about?"</p><p>Clay shifted, grunted down a wince. "I don't … I don't remember anything after the injection."</p><p>Silence settled between them.</p><p>Jason felt confusion swirl. Clay mustn't be remembering clearly, he thought, because the younger man <em>had</em> held out, despite the odds. His brow furrowed further, a ripple of doubt suddenly prickling through him.</p><p>Clay had fought against the drug.</p><p>… Hadn't he?</p><p>Clay shifted again, perhaps misinterpreting Jason's lack of response for anger. "'m sorry," he repeated, his voice small and laced with defeat. He waited another few moments, and then asked, tentatively, "How bad was it?"</p><p>Jason took a moment to reply. His mind was stuck, replaying the events of Jose's interrogation.</p><p>
  <em>What is the true purpose of your trip to Honduras?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Downtime … Meant to be a break.</em>
</p><p>That answer actually hadn't been incorrect, he realized with a start. The main reason they'd taken this job was to re-ground themselves after the rush of Serbia. It <em>was</em> supposed to have been a break.</p><p>
  <em>Who was he, to you?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A friend.</em>
</p><p>Technically, they <em>had</em> considered Miguel a friend. They'd grown close with the Honduran team during their time here. The statement wasn't false.</p><p>Jason swallowed thickly. There was only one answer that Clay had given, whilst under the effects of the drug, that technically was a lie.</p><p><em>And who is </em>this<em> man, to you?</em></p><p>
  <em>He's … my Dad.</em>
</p><p>Jason felt his chest tighten, speared with a sudden jolt of emotion.</p><p>One lie, alongside two other truths? Unlikely.</p><p>The drug was supposed to work by lowering inhibitions, slowing signals to the brain. If Clay had indeed been under its influence, like he claimed, then his answers were reflective of his <em>own</em> truths.</p><p>Jason felt his lip twitch.</p><p>
  <em>Huh …</em>
</p><p>A small amount of warmth curled through him. Did Clay really see him as a father-figure?</p><p>"Jase?" Clay's tone was worried now.</p><p>Jason hastily pulled himself together, eyes pricking. Once again, his hand found Clay's shaking shoulder, and he squeezed gently. "You didn't say anything bad," he reassured – though his words were unsteady, weighed with a whole heap of emotions. "You passed out, before you gave anything away." It wasn't a lie, but he would spare the details, for now.</p><p>Clay hesitated, possibly trying to work out whether Jason was skirting the truth, trying to cushion the blow.</p><p>Jason let his hand linger a moment longer upon the kid's shoulder, feeling dangerously overwhelmed. He would file the emotions away, for now.</p><p>"Okay," Clay eventually replied, although he didn't sound entirely convinced. "That's lucky, I suppose …"</p><p>Jason huffed, withdrew his hand. That was one way to look at it. Although a slow death wasn't necessarily better than a quick one. Jose's idea of mercy was definitely fucked up.</p><p>Clay shifted again, let out a small groan betraying his discomfort. He'd taken a beating, had to be hurting something awful, and it cut Jason up knowing there wasn't anything he could do to help.</p><p>"Hanging in there, buddy?" He asked, knowing that Clay would most likely sugar-coat whatever answer he gave.</p><p>A humorless laugh broke free of the younger man, but he didn't reply.</p><p>Another pocket of silence opened between them. Jason could hear his heart thumping, muffled in his ears. Was it beating faster than normal? He was beginning to feel a little clammy, and his senses were in overdrive, trying to make up for his loss of sight.</p><p>"Jase," Clay spoke eventually. There was something horribly fractured in his tone. "'m sorry."</p><p>Just like Mikey, Clay tended to mumble at the best of times. But now, the slur in his voice was troubling – plus, he was beginning to repeat himself. "Already told you," Jason countered. "Nothing to apologize for."</p><p>But Clay brushed him off. "No." He inhaled shakily. "It's my fault … we're in this mess."</p><p>Jason blinked at where he guessed Clay's face was. The kid had said that earlier. He was about to ask what the hell Clay was talking about, but the younger man continued.</p><p>"I suspected something was off … with Miguel," Clay admitted quietly, guilt weighing against his words. "I should've said something … But I didn't."</p><p>Jason felt his stomach knot.</p><p>"I should've told you …" Clay's voice frayed around the edges, falling away. "I just … didn't want you guys to think I was being paranoid."</p><p><em>Paranoid</em>? "Why on earth would we think that?" Jason didn't know what upset him more – the fact that Clay had withheld his suspicions, or the fact that he'd worried he wouldn't be taken seriously.</p><p>"I don't know …" Again, with the fragility. "I guess it just feels like, after Manila … Like everyone's waiting for me to crack, you know?"</p><p>Something cold stabbed through Jason's chest.</p><p>"I feel like everyone's always got … one eye me," Clay continued, sadness dancing about his words. "Waiting for me to fuck up."</p><p>Jason blew out a breath.</p><p>
  <em>Oh … hell.</em>
</p><p>"No one's waiting for you to fuck up, Clay."</p><p>It was true that they'd all been keeping closer tabs on their youngest since he'd returned to operating - but that stemmed from the still-too-fresh trauma of nearly losing him, not because they'd lost faith in him. Clay had mistaken that concern for judgement; something, Jason suspected, the kid had unfortunately had to deal with a lot in the past, before his time with Bravo.</p><p>"We would never think that. Ever. You hear me?" If Jason could have leveled Clay with a look, he would have.</p><p>Clay didn't reply, and Jason could hear the jaggedness around the younger man's breathing. Whether it was a result of the emotion, the drug, or the thinning air, he couldn't be sure, but it put him even more on edge than he already was.</p><p>"Tell me about Miguel," Jason prompted gently, deciding to redirect Clay's focus for now. With any luck, they could revisit the kid's unfounded uncertainty about his standing within the team at a later date, along with the fact that he'd honestly referred to Jason as his Dad. "What made you suspect something was off with him?"</p><p>Obviously, there <em>had</em> been something off with the Honduran team leader, if he'd attempted to trade both their lives for his brother's.</p><p>Clay sighed, shifted again, his breath coming close to Jason's shoulder. Was the kid tilting? Jason hated that he couldn't tell if his boy's eyes were open or closed, couldn't properly keep watch over him.</p><p>After another moment, Clay admitted, "I overheard him, talking to someone on his cell phone this morning … when I was out throwing the ball for Cerb."</p><p>Jason subtly bumped into Clay's shoulder, trying to gauge Clay's ability to remain upright.</p><p>The younger man gently leaned against him, perhaps silently grateful for the prop. "Ball went behind one of the buildings," Clay continued, the slur picking up between his words. "I went to get it … heard someone tucked around the corner, talking quietly." He exhaled shakily. "Realized it was Miguel. He sounded … stressed."</p><p>Jason inched closer to Clay, taking a little more of his weight.</p><p>"He was talking quickly," Clay explained. "I shouldn't have eavesdropped … but something about his tone made me wary."</p><p>Jason could feel the tremors that traveled through the younger man, from where their shoulders touched. He resisted the urge to pull Clay against him.</p><p>"I couldn't …" Clay's words trailed away, but he brought them back. "I couldn't follow all that he was saying. He was speaking quickly … Boots in gravel, sounded like he was pacing." He paused to shift against the wall, not quite stifling a pained grunt. "Seemed angry, panicked … Told whoever was on the line to sit tight. Said he had something in mind … something of high value …for a trade."</p><p>Jason felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. Miguel had been referring to <em>him</em>. A US Navy SEAL would be pretty high value to a drug lord, especially since the local Navy were making it their job to put men like Jose out of business.</p><p>"Jose had his brother," Jason commented, recalling Jose's earlier words. "Miguel thought he could trade my life for his brother's." It was a painful stab in the back, but then again, there was no telling what a person might do, if their family was threatened.</p><p>"I watched him," Clay admitted. "Through the day. Told myself I was overreacting … Talked myself out of saying something."</p><p>Jason thought back. "You insisted on coming with us to get food."</p><p>Clay paused, leaning a little more against Jason. "Miguel's a good shot," he murmured. "Noticed this afternoon, when we were at the range … he was distracted. Off his game." His breath came in small, warm puffs against Jason's bicep, like he was having trouble holding his head up. "When he insisted you go off base alone with him, I worried … Even though I wasn't exactly sure what I was worrying about."</p><p>Jason blew out a slow breath. Damn the kid and his sixth sense. He'd never met an operator more in tune with his gut than Clay was. Sometimes, it was borderline freaky. "Wish you'd said something," he admitted quietly.</p><p>If Clay had said something, perhaps their brothers would have been quick to join the dots. Perhaps their team mates would have found them by now.</p><p>Jason let his eyes slip closed, measuring breaths. Clay was already carrying enough of an emotional load - he wasn't about to add to it, by mentioning that not speaking out had probably made things worse for them.</p><p>So why <em>had</em> Clay come along to grab the food?</p><p>Because all it had done, as far as Jason could see, was land them both in this mess. He cracked open his eyes, asked as much.</p><p>Clay hesitated a moment before answering. "Because," he started, pulling in a quivering breath. "I didn't want you to be alone. Wanted to keep a close eye on Miguel … before I worked out whether I was crazy or not. Didn't expect what happened …"</p><p>Jason huffed. "You're not the crazy one in this equation, kid."</p><p>"No," Clay agreed with a small groan. "That's definitely Jose … Fuckin' asshat."</p><p>Jason couldn't help the twitch of his lip. <em>Asshat</em>. "You've been hanging round Sonny too long," he muttered.</p><p>A beat of silence settled between them. Clay tried to shift upright, away from Jason's shoulder, but the effort seemed too much, and he sagged back again.</p><p>"Oh," Clay murmured. "And … I took a tracker."</p><p>Jason took a moment to register Clay's words. His brain wasn't firing on all cylinders, and it abruptly stalled, backtracked. "Say what?" Suddenly he was pulling straighter, blinking through the dark at his boy.</p><p>Clay slipped a little, readjusted his weight against Jason.</p><p>Jason felt the younger man's head tilt to rest upon his shoulder.</p><p>"I took a tracker," Clay repeated, the words slurring together. "One of the compact ones … Davis keeps with our gear. Shoved it in my boot … Activated it just before we left base."</p><p>Jason's mind spun. Jose hadn't mentioned it. Surely, if he'd found it, he would have mentioned it. Could it still be wedged inside Clay's boot, wherever that was? Had Davis realized, and picked up the signal?</p><p>For the first time since they'd been taken, a real splinter of hope sparked through Jason. Shakily, he reached up, jerkily patting Clay's haphazard curls. "That was a really fucking genius move there, kiddo," he breathed, resisting the urge to kiss the top of his boy's head. "Totally against protocol, and I'm definitely gonna kick your ass for it later, but right now …" He twitched a small smile, dared to let the splinter of hope grow.</p><p>"Free pass?" Clay finished the sentence, hope evident in his tone, despite his grogginess.</p><p>Jason pulled him closer. Nodded stiffly. "Free pass," he agreed. "And, if our guys find us, because of it -" He tried to ignore the way Clay seemed to rattle with nearly uncontrollable shakes. "I'll buy you a case of that shitty beer you like. Deal?"</p><p>Clay took a moment to answer. When he did, his voice was worryingly thready, but he managed to huff half a laugh. "Deal."</p><p>STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST</p><p>Sonny procrastinated for as long as possible, before heading towards Bravo's quarters to meet the others. Chances were, one of his brothers – probably Ray – would come searching for him, if he didn't make an appearance soon.</p><p>He'd done a few laps of the base in the dark, punched a few fences and kicked a few walls. But none of it had helped ease the hurt. Not that he'd expected it to.</p><p>Approaching the building, his steps slowed, as if a weight pulled against him.</p><p>He wasn't ready to see Clay's empty bunk. Somehow, the thought that his boy might never return to gather his belongings tore him apart, nearly more than anything.</p><p>The sound of boots crunching through gravel had him turning.</p><p>Blackburn strode towards their quarters, slowed his steps at the sight of Sonny. A dark air of annoyance followed him, his shoulders rigid.</p><p>"Need me to knock anyone's teeth out?" Sonny offered, dropping his voice between them.</p><p>For a moment, it almost looked as though Blackburn might say yes. The commander scrubbed a hand over his short beard, blew out a sharp breath. He shook his head stiffly.</p><p>"Chat didn't go so well?" Sonny guessed, falling into step beside the older man as they closed the distance to the building's door.</p><p>Blackburn made a sound that could have passed as a growl. "There's only so many strings I can pull," he admitted irritably. "This isn't my base. And it's a fine line, accusing someone's well-respected team leader of being dirty – without <em>actually</em> accusing them." He paused by the door, pinned Sonny with a dangerous look. "Davis finding that vehicle is our only hope right now. My request to question Miguel's family was firmly dismissed, despite there being a strong possibility they could be of assistance."</p><p>Sonny felt his anger flare. "Feels a lot like the Honduran commander is protecting Miguel."</p><p>Blackburn pursed his lips, didn't disagree. He gripped the door handle tightly, paused for another moment. "He's either protecting Miguel, or his <em>own </em>reputation." His lip twitched. "It wouldn't look good for him, if Miguel was responsible, and word got out."</p><p>"Fuck that shit." Sonny was barely able to restrain himself from going back to the command room and pounding the man. "I swear to God, if anything's happened to them … If we find them, and it's too late …"</p><p>"I know," Blackburn stated firmly, eyes darkening. "I know."</p><p>They were about to enter the building, when Felipe hastily approached and stopped them short. The Honduran 2IC glanced nervously over his shoulder, as if checking he hadn't been followed, and then nodded towards the door.</p><p>"I need to talk with you," he said, his words a tense rush. "Can we go inside?" Again, he glanced anxiously around.</p><p>Sonny's eyes met Blackburn's, a moment of uncertainty briefly passing between them.</p><p>Something raw flickered across Felipe's expression, something pleading. He held up his cell phone, jerked his head again towards the door. "<em>Please -</em>" His voice was tight with genuine urgency. "I have information that might help find our guys, and I don't trust my own team or our CO to do the right thing."</p><p>Now, that got their attention.</p><p>Blackburn abruptly twisted the handle, pushed the door open. "Get inside," he ordered.</p><p>Felipe tucked his cell phone away, hastily obliged.</p><p>And Sonny followed him in – throwing one more glance over his shoulder, double-checking they were alone.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much again for anyone who's left comments, and has stuck with me this far :) A slightly shorter chapter. My brain isn't working this week, and words aren't cooperating lol. Hope everyone is staying safe and well x</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once inside their quarters, Blackburn whistled for Ray, Trent and Brock to gather around.</p><p>Sonny hung by the door; one eye on the room, the other watching for any more uninvited guests.</p><p>The rest of them warily formed a semi-circle around Felipe - Cerberus trotting a lap around Brock's legs, before sitting promptly, assessing the foreigner.</p><p>The Honduran 2IC shifted anxiously, eyes darting between the remaining members of Bravo.</p><p>"What's going on?" Ray asked cautiously, gaze skipping to Blackburn, and then to Sonny.</p><p>Trent attempted to throw a bread roll at the Texan – but Sonny batted it away, which earned him a scowl.</p><p>"We're listening," Blackburn stated, folding his arms over his chest, inviting Felipe to talk.</p><p>Felipe licked his lips, held up his cell phone. "I just got a call," he explained, voice unsteady, "from Miguel's wife, Belen."</p><p>The Honduran was only a handful of words in, and already Sonny felt his gut curl.</p><p>"She was scared," Felipe continued, "worried Miguel was in danger. When she couldn't get hold of him, she called me." He swallowed roughly, voice breaking at the end of his sentence. "Apparently, Miguel's younger brother, Javier, didn't come home last night after a job. Javier's wife got a message to say that he was being punished by his boss for fucking up a deal. And unless she could pay for his fuck-up within twenty-four hours, he would be dead." He raked fingers through his dark curls. "Javier's wife turned up on Belen's doorstep about an hour ago, claiming she called Miguel this morning, asking for his help. Apparently, Miguel told her to sit tight, that he had something in mind."</p><p>When Felipe didn't immediately go on, Blackburn questioned, "What type of <em>something</em>?"</p><p>Sonny felt the pit in his stomach grow at the look on the Honduran's face.</p><p>"Miguel told her he might be able to offer a trade, to get Javier back," Felipe admitted. "Apparently, Miguel told Javier's wife that he had something high value in mind."</p><p><em>Son of a </em>-</p><p>It took all Sonny's willpower not to punch a hole through the door. "He thought he could trade one of <em>us</em>, for his brother, yeah?" His tone held more than a bite. "Probably had his eye on Jase, but then Clay tagged along, and it was a two-for-one deal, am I right?" Without meaning to, he'd closed the gap between himself and Felipe.</p><p>Blackburn intervened, placing a restraining hand against Sonny's chest. The others had also closed in, appearing caught in varying states of anger.</p><p>Sonny's chest hitched under his commander's firm grip.</p><p>Felipe looked caught in a storm of emotions. His eyes were glassy as he regarded Sonny, but he didn't shy away from the irate Texan. Instead, he squared his shoulders – though they visibly trembled. "I make no excuse for whatever Miguel has done," he stated unsteadily. "But I will say this -" He drew a wobbly breath. "He practically raised his younger brother. And, despite Javier always finding trouble, Miguel looks out for him. Because he feels it's his responsibility. Because they're family."</p><p>"Don't make it right," Sonny growled.</p><p>"Not saying it does," Felipe agreed stiffly. "But if <em>your</em> little brother was threatened, what lengths would you go to, to get him back?"</p><p>Sonny's jaw ached, it was clenched so tightly. "My little brother <em>is</em> threatened."</p><p>Felipe's throat worked. "I know you wont believe me," he said, voice crumbling slightly. "But Miguel is a good man …" his words trailed off.</p><p>Sonny felt something inside him break a little, in response to Felipe's tone. The Honduran 2IC was young - probably only slightly older than Clay. And there was an honesty in his eyes that was rare in their line of work; a genuine spark that most guys lost, over time.</p><p>"What type of trouble did Miguel's little brother find?" Blackburn prompted, releasing his grip on Sonny – perhaps sensing Bravo Three's fire dissipate a little.</p><p>Felipe's gaze flicked to Blackburn. "Drugs," he replied. "I never knew for sure, and I never asked. But Belen told me just now that Javier's wife confirmed he was involved with the Delgado cartel."</p><p>A hiss from Ray indicated that it rang a bell. "I've heard Jose Delgado is a piece of work."</p><p>"Aren't they all?" Trent countered.</p><p>"Jose is known for his brutality," Felipe added, swallowing hard. "It's a miracle he even agreed to a deal."</p><p>Blackburn stepped away, paced. "Why didn't Miguel say something to your CO, after he found out his brother was missing?"</p><p>Sonny was wondering the same thing.</p><p>Felipe's lip twitched, almost bitterly. "Probably because he knew our commander would never green-light a rescue op."</p><p>Sonny studied Felipe closely, watching the way his knuckles whitened as he gripped his cell phone.</p><p>"All of us have stories," Felipe continued. "All of us have been affected, at some point in our lives, by the violence spread by people like Jose Delgado. If someone goes dark, no matter who they are, they're fair game. If our commander had found out about Miguel's brother, then Javier would have been put down like a dog. Not to mention the consequences for Miguel, compromising our navy's reputation with his family name linked to a cartel."</p><p>An uncomfortable silence settled around them.</p><p>Ray was the one to break it. "You haven't told your CO about this recent phone call, because you're worried he wont green-light a rescue op for Miguel?"</p><p>Felipe huffed, shook his head. "I haven't told him yet, because I wanted to be heard, not instantly dismissed." Again, a hint of bitterness passed over his expression. "He's not fond of me. He and my father were old team mates. They weren't friends."</p><p>Ray raised a brow. "He dislikes you, because of your father?"</p><p>Sonny caught the look Ray shot him. Yep – they knew someone else who was often punished, simply because of who <em>his</em> father was<em>.</em></p><p>"He dislikes me because I have opinions," Felipe corrected. "And I'm not afraid to share them." His lip twitched. "How do you say it? I like to rock the boat. I'm not sorry for it."</p><p>Sonny couldn't help the splinter of a laugh. "Shit, you sound like him …"</p><p>Confusion flashed across Felipe's features, but the other members of Bravo quirked lips in silent agreement.</p><p>Felipe pulled himself straighter. "If our commander doesn't agree to provide a vehicle for us to go after our guys, then I'll drive you myself."</p><p>Blackburn's gaze lingered upon the Honduran a moment longer. "I admire your determination," he stated sincerely. "But unless you know where they've been taken, we're not much better off."</p><p>Felipe opened his mouth to respond, but Blackburn's cell phone buzzed, cutting him off and grabbing everyone's attention.</p><p>Blackburn fished it from his pocket, eyes bobbing down to the caller ID and back up again. He raised the phone to his ear, eyes meeting Ray's. "Davis? Tell me you've got something."</p><p>Sonny felt his breath catch. He froze, watching their commander's expression for any hint of hope.</p><p>Blackburn held an infuriatingly impressive poker face, but he did allow a very small twitch of a smile as he listened to whatever Davis had to say. Eventually, he nodded. "That's good work," he commented, voice strengthening, just a tiny bit. "Don't let it out of your sight. Listen, I want you to quietly see what you can get on the Delgado cartel." His eyes flicked to Felipe. "Any buildings in the area, between where we found the tracker and where that vehicle's reappeared, that could be associated with them, no matter how small, got it? I'll let the guys know to suit up."</p><p>Ray nodded at the others in response, already moving.</p><p>Blackburn ended the call, drew a steadying breath. "I'll go have a chat with the Honduran CO," he addressed the group. "Davis thinks she's spotted the vehicle we're searching for, twenty clicks from where you found the tracker."</p><p>"Twenty clicks is a long way," Ray commented uneasily, halfway towards his gear.</p><p>Sonny pictured the area in question – concealed dirt roads, forking off from each other through dense forest. "Could have parked somewhere in that jungle, just be re-appearing now."</p><p>Enough time to kill and dispose of their friends …</p><p>"What will you tell my commander?" Felipe spoke up, shifting anxiously.</p><p>Blackburn's expression hardened. "Whatever I have to," he answered levelly. "If Davis has a lead, then we're going after our guys, whether he damned well likes it or not."</p><p>STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST</p><p>Time passed. Jason had been trying to keep track, but as the minutes blended together, his foggy mind had more and more trouble keeping up. His clamminess was increasing, and a strange, jelly-like feeling tingled through his limbs.</p><p>The carbon dioxide was building up in the small room, the effects beginning to show. Had it been three hours already? Perhaps he'd miscalculated.</p><p>He and Clay remained propped against the wall – the younger man leaning more heavily against him, head resting on Jason's shoulder. Clay was shaking something bad, the tremor passing into Jason. Or was he also shaking? It was hard to tell.</p><p>Their conversation had fizzled out, and they were each focusing on breathing slowly and evenly. But Jason was finding it harder to regulate, his control and concentration slipping. His breaths were coming shorter now, shallower. And his head was pounding, reminding him that some asshole had recently smacked his lights out.</p><p>Jason shifted slightly, careful not to topple Clay. His back was aching from being pressed against the unforgiving wall. "How's the leg?"</p><p>Clay took a moment to respond. "'s okay," came the eventual reply, slurred and quiet.</p><p>Jason's gut danced with anxiety. Clay was battling a concussion, the side-effects of the drug, blood loss, and the thinning air. "Not doing too well, are you, bud." He let his head tilt, resting a cheek upon his boy's head. Clay's curls were even more unruly with the humidity here, and the frizz tickled Jason's nose. He reached to pat it down, his movements noticeably uncoordinated.</p><p>If Clay was uncomfortable with the fact that he was using his team leader as a prop, he didn't say anything. And if he rolled his eyes at Jason's head pat, or the fact that Bravo One's normally stoic and stand off-ish façade seemed to have given way, well, it was dark - and Jason honestly didn't care. Neither of them was at their best right now. And, despite the splinter of hope they clung to, there was still a frighteningly real chance they would suffocate to death in this God-damned broken freezer room.</p><p>There was a place for vulnerability, alongside bravery. They'd already proven time and time again that they were thick-skinned hard-asses. Right now, it was okay to drop that act.</p><p>"Jase …"</p><p>Jason swallowed thickly. It wasn't the waver, or the quietness in which Clay spoke his name – it was the tone. He'd heard that tone before, in men who knew they were about to die.</p><p>"Want you to know …" Clay slurred, trying to pick up his voice.</p><p>Jason shifted, unconsciously shaking his head against the words. He didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to be having this conversation. "Guys will find us," he stated, trying for resolute; though the unsteadiness of his voice made it challenging. "I'm sure they're on their way. Just gotta hang in there, bit longer."</p><p>But Clay wasn't buying it.</p><p>And Jason knew it was a long shot. Even if Davis had found the tracker, who knew where the signal had led their team? There was a real chance he and Clay might not be found in time. Hell, they might not be found for days, months even, if Jose came back and got rid of their bodies.</p><p>Jason felt his insides roll. He'd been deliberately trying to detach himself from that reality, deliberately not thinking about the worst-case scenario. But now, it seemed intent on undoing him, threatening to tip the balance to a place he knew he wouldn't come back from.</p><p>"Want you to know …" Clay tried again, breaths small and jagged. "I'll always be grateful."</p><p>Jason felt the prick of tears. He wanted so badly to shut his ears off, shake Clay to make him stop. But he knew that the words, as painful as they were to hear, were necessary. And he wouldn't take that away from Clay.</p><p>Clay tried to straighten, but he didn't seem to have the strength. He sagged more heavily against Jason, if that was even possible. "Grateful you gave me a chance …" he said, with a tired wince in his voice. "When you drafted me … Gave me a chance … And …" He paused, allowing uncomfortable silence to creep in for a handful of beats. Eventually, he gathered the dropped sentence. "… And a family."</p><p>Jason's chest was so tight it hurt. Every muscle screamed. His throat closed around a painful lump that just wouldn't swallow down. <em>God fucking damn it</em>, he couldn't do this. He felt his head shaking. Was he shaking it, or was it moving of its own accord? A physical rejection of the unspoken goodbye between Clay's words.</p><p>"No," he breathed, reaching an arm around and pulling Clay closer. His hand brushed against warm tears on Clay's cheek. "Not giving up, alright?"</p><p>He knew Clay was fading. They both were. Jason felt the tug of fatigue, the temptation to close his eyes. The air around them was stuffy, stifling, and the weight in which it pressed in on them grew by the second.</p><p>More time passed. How long, exactly, Jason had no idea. He held Clay – half to prop the younger man up, and half because he was terrified that if he let go, he might lose his boy forever. A ridiculous notion, he realized, absently.</p><p>"Clay?" he could feel the younger man's breath against his forearm, where it was wrapped across Clay's chest. The kid's face had tilted further down. Jason jostled lightly. "C'mon, buddy. No sleeping. Not yet."</p><p>Clay groaned weakly.</p><p>Jason let his head tilt back against the wall, blinked useless eyes up through the inky darkness towards the ceiling. If he could see, he knew that his vision would have been blurred with threatening tears.</p><p>He had to say his piece, as well. Just in case.</p><p>As much as it ruined him.</p><p>Releasing a horribly fragile breath, Jason dropped his chin, angling his face back towards Clay. "Not saying goodbye," he whispered, stubbornness evident in his tone. "But, just so you know …" His throat refused to work, words caught. Painfully, he dredged them up. "Honor's been all mine." And God damn it, he meant that.</p><p>When Clay didn't reply, Jason jostled him gently, forcing himself to continue. "Perpetual pain in my ass …" he admitted brokenly, drawing a shuddering breath. "But … wouldn't have had it any other way." His throat closed further, chest clamped. "Really damned proud of you, kid."</p><p>But Clay didn't respond.</p><p>The threatening tears began to overflow, as Jason realized Clay had drifted off – possibly without even having heard the honest words.</p><p>Desperately, he squashed his rising panic, forcing himself instead to focus on the movement of Clay's chest. "They'll come." The promise was empty, more grasping at straws than anything. "They'll find us." Though the splinter of hope was crumbling.</p><p>At least, Jason thought hollowly, Clay being unconscious meant that he was using up less breathable air.</p><p>Desperately, Jason attempted to pull his attention into counting breaths, regain some sense of control over his rising emotions and anxiety. Panicking would only thin the air quicker. He had to get a grip on himself – for both their sake.</p><p>"Just hang in there," he repeated, voice fragmenting. A tear tracked its way down his cheek and dripped off his jaw, landing somewhere in Clay's hair. "Promised you shitty beer, remember?"</p><p>But Clay remained horribly still, aside from the relentless tremor still vibrating through him.</p><p>And Jason stubbornly tightened his grip, as if it could make a difference.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much again for the lovely comments! I've decided to split this bit off, and give the whole of the next chapter to Sonny. All mistakes are mine. Hopefully everyone is safe and well x</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Blackburn and the Honduran CO were locked in heated debate when Bravo entered the command center.</p><p>Sonny took up a position by Davis, catching and returning her brief glance. He was already sweating under his tac gear - swinging between the stuffiness of the night, and the chill of anxiety. Stiffly, he folded his arms, tuning in to the tense conversation taking place center room.</p><p>Felipe and his team lingered close by, shifting impatiently, each of them also geared up and ready to roll.</p><p>"I say we prioritize the vehicle," the Honduran CO stated firmly. "This building you've found – it's a stab in the dark."</p><p>Sonny's heart skipped a beat. So, Davis <em>had</em> managed to find a possible target building. Damn, his girl was good.</p><p>Irritation played across Blackburn's features. "Our intel is solid," he countered, a barely-concealed edge to his words. "The Delgado cartel have known ties to that building. If the vehicle is just reappearing now, then chances are it was stationary somewhere - and our money is on the location we've identified. There's a good chance our guys are there."</p><p>"There's equal chance they're in the vehicle," the Honduran was quick to snap back. "And besides, whoever's in that vehicle might prove valuable - especially if it <em>is</em> the Delgado cartel, as you claim." There lingered a permanent air of audacity about the man that rubbed Sonny up the wrong way.</p><p>Blackburn darted a glance at Ray, then back to his foreign counterpart. "Why don't we split up then," he suggested. "My team heads to the building – your team follows the vehicle."</p><p>The Honduran CO raised a skeptical brow. "Our teams are both short on men, in case you forgot."</p><p>Blackburn squared his shoulders. "So, I'll ride with my guys," he stated, bobbing a tight nod towards Ray. "That leaves us only one short on our side."</p><p>Sonny didn't miss the ripple of movement that passed through the Honduran team. Felipe's attention ricocheted between his own CO and Bravo's, a hint of admiration brushing his features.</p><p>The Honduran CO opened his mouth, possibly to argue, but he was cut off. "One commanding officer is enough for this room," Blackburn reasoned, standing firm.</p><p>It was difficult to read the emotions playing across the Honduran CO's face, but Sonny suspected he didn't necessarily approve - and probably never would have considered getting his hands dirty alongside his own men. Most officers of his rank wouldn't. But then, that's what set Blackburn apart.</p><p>Felipe tentatively stepped forward, casting a quick over-the-shoulder glance at his team. "I can go with Bravo," he offered. "Bring their numbers back to six. Why don't you bring in both a team leader and 2IC from another team to lead my guys? Dynamics will be better that way."</p><p>The Honduran CO's expression hardened. He regarded Felipe – as if caught between approving the request; or denying it just to spite the younger man.</p><p>"Makes sense to me," Blackburn urged gently, nodding towards Felipe. "Six men each team. Increases our odds. And it allows us to cover both the building and the vehicle."</p><p>Sonny was having trouble standing still, and he couldn't help but notice his brothers also growing impatient beside him. Each passing second was already one too many.</p><p>Thankfully, the Honduran CO came to his senses. Irritably, he smoothed his thinning dark hair, muttered his reluctant agreement. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and stalked over to a phone. He threw a look at Davis as he lifted the receiver. "You still have eyes on that vehicle?"</p><p>Sonny bristled at the man's tone, but managed to hold his tongue.</p><p>Davis pursed her lips and offered a stiff nod.</p><p>The Honduran punched the phone's buttons, shot a glance at Blackburn. "I'll assemble my team," he stated tersely. "You take the same van from earlier. I'll have my guys on comms – you liaise with …" he waved a vague hand. "Davie here."</p><p>Sonny arched a brow. <em>Davie</em>? Fucking hell, how long had they been here?</p><p>He was about to correct the older man, when Blackburn pointedly cleared his throat, his expression suggesting they don't waste any more time arguing. "Let's move our asses," he ordered, starting towards the door. He gave Davis a clipped nod as he passed– as well as a subtle eye-roll.</p><p>She squeezed an empty smile. "Bring them back." Her gaze skipped over each of them, lingering an extra moment upon Sonny.</p><p>Sonny had to force himself out the door, instead of stopping to pull her into a tight hug.</p><p>Once outside, they made their way quickly across the base, the thick night air heavy and damp around them.</p><p>Felipe organized a rifle and gear for Blackburn. They could have swung by Bravo's quarters, grabbed Jason's stuff instead - but no one dared suggest it. There was an unspoken rule that you didn't touch a brother's stuff, unless he was dead.</p><p>And Jason and Clay most definitely weren't dead. Yet.</p><p>Once at the van, they took a moment to regroup. It was decided that Blackburn would take the Bravo One call sign for the duration of the op, and Felipe would take Bravo Six.</p><p>Sonny wasn't sure how he felt about it, and perhaps he made some sort of uncomfortable noise, because Felipe quickly piped up and offered to take Bravo Seven instead. Which Sonny respected, more than he could say.</p><p>But Ray brushed off the suggestion. "All good, brother," he assured. "We know that Clay would be grateful you're riding with us tonight."</p><p>Felipe hesitated another moment, looking to Sonny, as if seeking the same approval.</p><p>Sonny swallowed thickly. Eventually, he bobbed his head - reluctantly acknowledging that Ray was right, as usual.</p><p>"Let's go get our guys," Blackburn announced, popping the front passenger door and indicating Ray take the driver's seat.</p><p>Sonny followed the others through the back, hopping up onto the bench seat and sliding in beside Felipe. He reached to close his side of the rear door – Trent mirroring his action on the other side with a squeak and a slam.</p><p>"HAVOC, this is Bravo One."</p><p>Sonny had to admit, it was strange hearing those words come out of Blackburn's mouth. It brought uncomfortable flashbacks of Mumbai, when Adam had filled their team leader's shoes. Hopefully, this time, the night didn't end up with someone in a body bag.</p><p>Davis' voice came back, confirming their comms connection, just as the van rumbled to life.</p><p>And without wasting another minute, Ray stepped on the gas – steering them out of the base's gates and into the dimly lit streets.</p><p>They would take the same route as earlier, along the dark, pothole-filled forest road. The building Davis had located was thirty minutes from where they'd found the tracker.</p><p>Sonny's eyes drifted to Felipe.</p><p>The Honduran sat, head bowed, hands clasped over the rifle resting across his lap. Perhaps sensing the Texan's gaze on him, he straightened, pulled a shaky breath.</p><p>"You prayin'?" Sonny questioned, no judgement in his tone.</p><p>Felipe gave a jerky nod. "For Miguel, and your team mates. Praying that luck is on our side. That the building holds our friends."</p><p>Sonny regarded the younger man. There was no guarantee they would find their brothers. There was a chance that the building could be empty. <em>But …</em></p><p>"Don't need luck," he found himself saying, leaning back against the rattling side of the van. "We've got Davis." He flicked his eyes across to Brock and Trent, who nodded. "If that woman says she's got a lead, then it's as good as solid. We'll find them."</p><p>Though just what state they might find their team mates in, was another issue entirely.</p><p>Felipe pushed a thin smile, but he didn't look completely convinced.</p><p>Sonny's gut churned. The lack of food was making him feel queasy. Or perhaps it was Ray's driving - or the fact that, in approximately half an hour, he might be confronted with his brothers' lifeless forms.</p><p>Squeezing his eyes closed, he felt his back press against the wall as Ray hung a hard right. When he cracked his eyes open again, Cerberus was staring at him.</p><p>The dog's eyes glinted, reflective in the near-dark. Somehow, they still held their silent seeking and assessing.</p><p>Brock had the hair missile propped between his knees. Bravo Five reached forward, anxiously adjusted Cerb's vest. He gave a quick scratch behind the dog's ears – and Sonny didn't miss the jerkiness of his second-youngest brother's normally smooth movements, betraying barely held-together nerves.</p><p>Beside Brock, Trent sat, rigid. The medic's expression was stony, his gaze fixed on the windshield. He looked as on-edge as Sonny had ever seen him - clutching the rim of the bench, as if bracing for a crash. Or perhaps mentally bracing, for whatever they might find … Whatever he might not be able to fix, despite his more than adequately stocked med bag.</p><p>Hadn't they just done this, about an hour ago?</p><p>Felipe broke the silence, drawing Sonny's attention away from his two brothers. "I admire your commander, you know," he said above the rumble of the engine, glancing briefly towards the front of the vehicle. "A true leader isn't afraid to fight alongside his men."</p><p>Sonny stared at the back of Blackburn's helmet, silhouetted alongside Ray. "Yeah," he agreed eventually, scratching around his chin strap. "We're pretty damned lucky to have him watching our backs." In terms of CO's, there was no denying that Bravo had hit the jackpot.</p><p>A flicker of emotion played across Felipe's features, tugging at the corner of his lips. "I definitely appreciate him having my back tonight," he admitted. "Him not telling my CO about the phone call, claiming instead to have received intel pointing to the Delgado cartel …" He huffed. "Probably saved a lot of arguing. A lot of time."</p><p>Sonny drew a grounding breath. Knowing what little he did of the Honduran CO, he figured that was a fair assumption. He raked teeth over his bottom lip. "Wasn't a lie," he pointed out. "Technically, Blackburn <em>did</em> receive intel. Just didn't mention it came from you."</p><p>Felipe seemed to chew over the statement for a moment. Eventually, he nodded – and Sonny noticed a portion of tension release from his shoulders. Felipe let his eyes linger another moment on the Texan, before returning his gaze to the road ahead.</p><p>A vehicle passed them by, its headlights sweeping briefly through the windshield. The light caught on a few stray curls escaping from under Felipe's helmet, and Sonny felt an ache shoot through him as he thought again how much the young Honduran reminded him of Clay.</p><p>"HAVOC, this is One," Blackburn spoke through their comms, drawing Sonny from his thoughts. "About to turn off the main road."</p><p>"Good copy, Bravo One," Davis' voice came back. "I have eyes on your location, but I'll lose you once you're under the forest canopy. Check in once you're approaching the building."</p><p>"Copy that," Blackburn replied. A heartbeat passed, and then he added, "You still tracking that vehicle?"</p><p>"Affirmative," Davis confirmed. "Target vehicle is still mobile. Second team are on their way to intercept."</p><p>Sonny's anxiety prickled. Despite how much he wanted to believe his brothers were in the building, he knew that there was every chance they might instead be inside the vehicle. And, if the other team found them first … Well, Sonny wasn't sure how he felt about trusting anyone else with the lives of two of his closest friends.</p><p>But then, the reality was that he couldn't be in two places at once.</p><p>The van turned abruptly, Ray bumping them off the main road and onto the familiar, unforgiving dirt track.</p><p>Sonny grabbed for his nearest hand hold, curling fingers around it and gripping tightly - his stomach lurching sickeningly with every violent bump, his anxiety steadily climbing.</p><p>If he didn't vomit at some point tonight, it would be a God-damned miracle.</p><p>STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST</p><p>The air – or lack thereof – was growing more oppressive by the minute.</p><p>Jason still clung to Clay; although his arms and legs tingled, making them feel like they were floating. He kept having to check that he still had hold of his boy, startling every time he lost the sensation of contact.</p><p>Tremors vibrated through them both, and the clamminess of their skin had increased. Jason felt sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, as well as his upper lip. His thoughts were skittish, disjointed, and tricky to pin down. Distantly, he realized that all these symptoms were bad, most likely related to oxygen deprivation. But he couldn't even hold focus long enough to properly work it out.</p><p>Things weren't looking so good for them. Jason knew, if their brothers didn't find them soon … it would be game over.</p><p>Emotions churning, he attempted to take a grounding breath. The air felt so thin that his lungs were left aching. Was it thin? Or perhaps it was just Clay's weight against his chest. Jason wasn't even sure he could count to ten right now, let alone work it out. Closing his eyes, he drew another handful of shallow inhales, pushing against the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.</p><p>Distantly, he tried to draw upon his training. But sorting his thoughts and memories right now felt far too confusing, and he quickly traded the effort for just focusing on staying conscious and upright.</p><p>Fragments of memories kept trying to assault him, and he was beginning to feel like he was losing his grip on what was real and what was dream. Pretty soon, he would be pulled away from reality completely. As hard as it was, he knew he had to try to hold on to it for as long as possible.</p><p>His thoughts skipped backwards and forwards, throwing pieces of his life at him from over the years – his children being born, meeting Alana, Alana's death, drafting Clay … There was no rhyme or reason to the order in which they came at him; which gave the jumble a distressing edge, making it near impossible to de-tangle himself from it, prevent himself from going under.</p><p>Tears pricked his eyes. Or were they rolling down his cheeks? Jason really wasn't sure any more.</p><p>He tried to focus on Clay's weight against him, tried to ground himself in it. But his mind kept flinging painful memories at him, pulling his attention to shattering things like how God-damned much he'd miss his kids, and how much he wished he could tell them he was sorry for all of this.</p><p>His thoughts also kept snagging on Clay's interrogation; the younger man referring to him as his Dad.</p><p>Jason's chest hitched. Was he sobbing? He honestly didn't know. He tried to pull Clay closer, but his limbs refused to cooperate. He wanted so desperately for Clay to wake up, so that he could tell the kid that he felt the same. He should have told Clay, before his boy passed out.</p><p>Jason couldn't be sure when he'd gone from having two children, to three, but he was so fucking grateful that he'd gained a second son in his stubborn-ass, pain-in-the-ass rookie. He felt so fucking broken that he would never be able to tell Clay just how much that meant to him …</p><p>Shaking with more than just tremors, Jason squeezed his eyes closed against the storm within him.</p><p>At least Clay was unconscious. This was most definitely a shitty way to go, and it was a small mercy that Clay was spared the agonizing downwards spiral Jason was currently experiencing.</p><p>Tilting his face into Clay's hair, apologies spilled from his lips. He wasn't sure what, exactly, he was apologizing for, but it felt right, somehow …</p><p>Minutes passed by.</p><p>Jason may have drifted in and out of consciousness, he couldn't be sure. But suddenly a sound from the other side of the freezer door had his ears pricking.</p><p>He stilled, listening intently – trying to work out whether he'd imagined it.</p><p>Voices?</p><p>Panic spiked.</p><p>Oh God, was Jose back?</p><p>Attempting to shift Clay to the side, Jason's ears burned with the strain of concentrating on the sound. He could barely coordinate himself - his fuzzy brain trying unsuccessfully to piece together the threat.</p><p>Shouting?</p><p>A dog's bark?</p><p>Suddenly, the freezer door screamed on its hinges as it was jerked open – flooding painfully bright light and fresh air into the small space, completely overwhelming Jason's malfunctioning senses.</p><p>Anxiety rushed through him as he gripped Clay tighter. There were voices, but he had no idea what they were saying. There were silhouettes rushing him, but his temporarily blinded eyes couldn't make out details.</p><p>He felt Clay's body being pulled away from him, hands trying to grip onto his own shoulders.</p><p>
  <em>No –</em>
</p><p>Jason's trembling increased, as the last bit of adrenaline his body could possibly muster shot through him, causing a knee-jerk reaction. He switched on to auto pilot, resolving to do what he did best …</p><p>He <em>fought</em>.</p><p>No-!" He cried, desperately clinging on to Clay, kicking and thrashing about. "You're not fucking taking him! <em>You're</em> <em>not</em> <em>taking him</em>!"</p><p>At least that's what he thought came out of his mouth.</p><p>The voices grew louder, and with every jagged breath, Jason grew more and more frantic. Distressingly, his grip on Clay began to slip.</p><p>"<em>Get your fucking hands</em> <em>off him</em>!" He screamed. But his voice was lost in the sudden rushing in his ears.</p><p>The room spun. The floor violently tipped from underneath him. Despite Jason's best efforts, he lost his grip on Clay.</p><p>
  <em>No no no -</em>
</p><p>Anguish rose within him. And then finally, he lost his grip on himself as well.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had some time up my sleeve and wanted to get this next chapter up before the rest of my week gets busy - mainly because I felt bad about leaving the last one on a bit of a mean cliffie ;) Thank you so much again for everyone who's left kind comments. You have no idea how much they mean - they really do make my day! Apologies for any mistakes or medical inconsistencies in this chapter. Thanks so much if you're still reading :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The building was a small warehouse, surrounded by dense rainforest. Their original dirt road had forked multiple times beneath the thick forest canopy, leading them here. As far as hiding places went, Sonny could see how a drug lord could find it appealing.</p><p>Ray had pulled the van off the road about half a click from the building, allowing them to use the shadows to make their final approach on foot. Davis had glimpses of the perimeter on ISR, but no clear view. It would be up to Bravo to check the warehouse's boundaries from the ground, ensure the path was clear.</p><p>It was predetermined that Blackburn would take front security, while the others cleared the inside. Their commander recognized that, despite him being temporary team leader, it was important that the rest of them be frontline if they happened to find their guys.</p><p>"Not up for debate," Blackburn had countered, before any of them could question whether it was the right call.</p><p>And Sonny was reminded, again, just how much respect he held for the man – even though a part of him wanted to trade places, not have to face whatever reality awaited them on the other side of the building's front door.</p><p>Sonny's heart beat painfully against his ribs, keeping time with his steps as he navigated the tangling undergrowth behind Trent and Brock. The three of them were clearing the southern and eastern boundaries around the warehouse's perimeter. Cerb led the way, nose to the ground and ears back. Sonny mirrored his brothers, sweeping his rifle left and right, peering through his NODs for any sign of movement.</p><p>The place had an eerie stillness about it that set the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. It didn't appear to be an operating warehouse – no vehicles parked, no signs of goods coming and going. But it wasn't in a state of disrepair either, which fueled the suspicion that it was being used for alternate purposes - drugs transfers, private meetings … possibly the storage and disposal of bodies.</p><p>Sonny felt a chill bristle through him, as he wondered again whether Jason and Clay had been dumped here. Chest constricting, he swatted the unhelpful thoughts away – opting instead to count breaths and footfalls, as he kept pace with his brothers.</p><p>Regrouping at the northern boundary in front of the building, Blackburn relayed to Davis that there was no sign of movement – no guards by the door, nothing that spoke of prisoners being held. Which didn't bode well, at all.</p><p><em>The dead don't need guarding</em>.</p><p>Swallowing against threatening bile, Sonny cursed his churning gut. He crouched by Brock, swinging his pack to the ground and drawing out charges ready to breach the door. Everything about this place felt wrong, and his gaze darted back towards the warehouse, nerves prickling with a sense of impending doom. The silence, stillness, and <em>lifelessness </em>of the place had death written all over it.</p><p>God, he really wasn't ready to find his brothers' bodies. He wasn't ready to have to admit that they were dead. He wanted to remain in the dark, for a little while longer, where he could pretend that the night held a happy ending.</p><p>"Bravo Three, you good?" Blackburn questioned, nodding at the charges and snatching Sonny's attention.</p><p>Sonny gave an unsteady affirmative, gripping the devices in shaky hands.</p><p>Blackburn keyed his comms. "Preparing to make entry."</p><p>"Copy that," Davis responded, a tight edge around her tone, obvious even through the radio.</p><p>"Bravo Two and Five have point," Blackburn reminded them. "Just because we don't see anyone, doesn't mean this place is empty. Keep your guard up."</p><p>A collective mutter of acknowledgement passed through them. Sonny pocketed the charges, readjusted his rifle – ignoring the sweatiness of his palms within his gloves.</p><p>Together, they shuffled through the undergrowth, splitting into two groups. Sonny once again followed Trent and Brock.</p><p>Cerb whined, pulling against his leash, and Sonny didn't miss the troubled look Brock shot Trent.</p><p>Did Cerb already know what waited for them inside? Dogs had a sixth sense, Sonny was sure of it. Their furry team mate's demeanor did nothing to thaw the icy dread threatening to overtake Sonny's insides.</p><p>"Team One, in position," Blackburn's voice came over comms, from the opposite corner of the northern boundary.</p><p>Sonny balanced his rifle, reached for his own comms. "Team Two, good to go," he replied, nodding to Trent and Brock.</p><p>And then Blackburn was counting down – something that Jason had done for them a hundred times. Hearing their commander's voice now, instead of their usual Bravo One, forced Sonny to re-gather himself, hone his senses to the task at hand.</p><p>Jason and Clay were relying them. He needed to pull his shit together, <em>right now</em>.</p><p>With fluidity earned from years of experience, they closed in on the building – two groups moving as one.</p><p>Once there, Sonny pulled up at the door, working quickly.</p><p>"Charges set," he stated, once he was done. Hurriedly, he retreated a few steps alongside his brothers, turning a shoulder as the charges detonated and blew the door off its hinges.</p><p>"Making entry," Ray announced, already moving forward.</p><p>Sonny followed behind Brock and Trent, as the two groups entered the warehouse's large, dark interior.</p><p>The space was startlingly empty. Their brisk sweep revealed nothing – not even a mouse. Eyes flicking upwards towards the rafters, it struck Sonny how the arching, exposed beams looked like a rib cage - like they were moving through the hollowed gut of some giant creature. It added to the weighty, ill-feeling of the place.</p><p>With his heart lodged in his throat, Sonny followed Brock and Cerb along the right-hand wall towards the back of the room, Trent keeping pace behind them. Ray and Felipe mirrored their movements on the opposite side.</p><p>"Main section clear," Ray reported over comms, as he and Felipe made their way towards one of two closed doors on their side of the far wall.</p><p>"Copy that," Blackburn answered, from where he stood just outside main entry, keeping watch.</p><p>Cerb pulled harder, his movements becoming more frantic the closer they got to the back of the warehouse.</p><p>Ray and Felipe headed to the first door on their side; while Sonny, Trent and Brock followed Cerberus to what appeared to be a heavy metal door - possibly a cool room, of sorts.</p><p>Sonny wasn't ready - even as Cerb jumped at the door, turned circles and whined.</p><p>Sonny wasn't ready - even as Trent gripped the large handle and pulled as hard as he could, the door screaming on its hinges.</p><p>Sonny wasn't ready - even as he peered along the barrel of his rifle, catching sight of his two lost brothers; huddled in nothing but their boxer briefs against the wall of the narrow room beyond.</p><p>This damned job never afforded them the luxury of a slow lead-in. Reality slammed headfirst into Sonny, like a slingshot's sudden, violent release.</p><p>"We've got them!" Brock called, snapping into action and pulling Cerb out of the way so that Sonny and Trent could rush into the narrow room.</p><p>Sonny didn't pay attention to Ray's comms reply, nor did he care. His sole focus, as he skidded to his knees beside Trent, was the fact that Clay's eyes were closed, and his boy was streaked with blood, slumped in Jason's arms. Jason was wildly blinking, eyes unfocused - a dazed and distressed look plastered upon his normally hard-set face.</p><p>"Jason?" Trent prompted, grabbing gently for their team leader's shoulders and nodding at Sonny to handle Clay.</p><p>But Jason didn't acknowledge them. It was like a switch flipped, and he began to fight, kicking and thrashing as he gripped Clay tighter.</p><p>Sonny rocked back, shifting quickly out of the way, his own panic spiking at the violent reaction.</p><p>"Jason, it's <em>us</em>," Trent urged, his normally steady voice wavering. "We've got you. Calm down -"</p><p>But Jason didn't calm. He started yelling – in a tone that Sonny had never heard from him before, and, quite frankly, never wanted to hear again.</p><p>"No -!" Jason cried frantically. "You're not fucking taking him! <em>You're not taking him!</em>"</p><p>Sonny traded a quick, broken glance with Trent.</p><p>Clay's head lolled lifelessly.</p><p><em>Oh fuck</em>, was the kid even breathing?</p><p>Sonny felt his stomach lurch at the level of Jason's distress. Was Jason distressed because Clay was dead? His eyes travelled over their boy's bloodied torso, landing on the messy thigh wound. It sat directly in the middle of the knotted Manila scar, flesh re-torn and weeping. Sonny reeled at the sight. What the fuck had those monsters done to the kid?</p><p>Trent tried again to get through to Jason.</p><p>But Jason's alarm ratcheted up another notch. "<em>Get your fucking hands off him!</em>" He screamed, attempting to pull Clay closer, shift away from Trent's touch - his unfocused gaze still swinging wildly about.</p><p>"<em>Trent -</em>?"</p><p>Sonny spun to see Ray, standing white-faced in the doorway beside Brock, staring in on the scene.</p><p>Trent waved them back, tension lining his features.</p><p>Sonny's breath was caught. His heart stuck mid-beat, eyes caught on the horrible stillness of Clay's expression. He hadn't been ready to find his brothers dead - but he also sure as hell hadn't been ready for <em>this</em>.</p><p>Trent tried again to reach out, but Jason kicked and thrashed – although Sonny noticed the master chief's movements rapidly becoming more uncoordinated, as his desperate fight thinned.</p><p>And then, finally, almost as abruptly as it had started, Bravo One's battle fizzled out.</p><p>Jason's grip suddenly loosened on Clay, and Sonny lurched forward, catching his little brother as Clay's body began to sag to the side.</p><p>Trent's hands shot forward, steadying Jason, as their team leader's eyes rolled back. He threw a quick backwards glance towards the others. "He's out."</p><p>And for a splinter of a second, silence descended - the four conscious members of Bravo frozen, breathless and shell-shocked.</p><p>Then it all caught up, like a sudden vacuum, and Trent was barking orders, yelling for Jason and Clay to be moved out of the stuffy room and into fresher air. Blackburn was demanding a sitrep, and Ray was stumbling over a response as he lurched forwards to help juggle Jason's weight.</p><p>Amidst the chaos, Trent had somehow managed to quietly assess both men – because that's what he did. When bullets were flying, when shit was hitting the fan; Trent triaged. He'd concluded that Jason and Clay had been left in the room to suffocate, and that they'd come too fucking close.</p><p>Sonny immediately got on one side of Clay, Brock on the other. Together they gently hooked hands under their boy's armpits and pulled him as carefully as possible out of the small room, headlamps dancing over his too-pale face.</p><p>Flashlights were held; their white beams washing over bruises and cuts. It became quickly apparent that Clay had taken a beating, whereas Jason wasn't as roughed up. Trent finished checking Jason over, while Sonny tried to stop his fingers violently shaking as he ripped off a glove to feel for Clay's pulse.</p><p>"What's his status?" Trent demanded from where he knelt over Jason. His tone was clipped, professionalism winning out over emotion, for now.</p><p>Sonny forced himself to focus.</p><p>"<em>Sonny</em>?" Trent pushed. "Is he <em>breathing</em>?"</p><p>Sonny shook himself together – finally registering the thump of a slow but steady pulse against his fingertips. <em>Oh thank fucking God</em>. He released a broken portion of breath, fingers quickly shifting to rest under Clay's nose. Gentle warmth brushed against them. He nodded jerkily.</p><p>"Breathing shallow. Pulse is slow, but steady." Sonny shifted his hand to briefly cup the side of Clay's face, taking a moment to fully register that his boy was still alive, and laying right here in front of him.</p><p>Trent hurriedly shuffled over to Clay. "We've gotta get them out of here," he stated. "They're dehydrated, ideally need to be on oxygen."</p><p>"Can't treat them here," Ray agreed, from where he knelt by Jason's head, a hand resting upon his best friend's bare chest. "Whoever took them could be back any moment." <em>To dispose of their bodies</em>, was left unsaid.</p><p>Sonny shifted out of the way, allowing Trent better access to Clay.</p><p>Bravo Four worked fast, quickly assessing Clay's injuries with probing fingers and a pen light. He reached for his pack, pulled antiseptic wipes and gauze, threw a few at Sonny. Shooting an over-the-shoulder glance towards Ray, he nodded down at Jason. "Try get him to come round," he ordered. "It'll help him take some deeper breaths, get his O2 levels up. His panic was likely the result of oxygen deprivation."</p><p>Sonny fumbled with a pack of sterile wipes, fingers uncooperative. He felt marginally better knowing that perhaps there was an explanation for Jason's uncharacteristic freak out.</p><p>Trent immediately set about cleaning Clay's leg wound. "Clean the cuts on his chest and under his ribs," he told Sonny, not looking up. "Don't bother dressing them, I'll do that in the van. Just get them clean."</p><p>Sonny followed the orders without question, trying to keep his attention on task. With Trent leaning over Clay, working to clean and cover the gash on their boy's thigh, Sonny's mind was thrown back six months to that horrible night in Manila - and he found it near impossible not to be pulled under by painful memories.</p><p><em>Stay focused</em>, he chided himself, shaking the obtrusive thoughts free. Darting a glance around, he had a feeling he wasn't the only one struggling.</p><p>He could see Brock hovering - Bravo Five's gaze also repeatedly snagging on the familiar wound. He was obviously having trouble redirecting his attention.</p><p>Even Trent's normally steady hands trembled as he worked, and his mouth was set in a thinner line than normal.</p><p>Sonny drew carefully measured breaths, quickly wiping blood and dirt from the shallow cuts across Clay's skin. Thankfully, none of the wounds were overly deep. It was obvious that someone had sought to <em>hurt</em>, as opposed to kill. Someone had <em>deliberately</em> cut into the knotted scar upon Clay's thigh, probably seeking to cause not only pain, but distress to the kid. They'd recognized it as a semi-recent traumatic injury, and they'd hit Clay where they knew it would hurt. It was a fucking low blow, and Sonny's already churning stomach curled and rolled with anger at the thought. If he ever found who did this to his little brother, he would cut into <em>them</em>. Repeatedly.</p><p>"Let's hurry it up."</p><p>Blackburn's voice over comms broke Sonny's downward spiral. He glanced up to see their commander silhouetted by the blown-off warehouse door, standing guard.</p><p>"Nearly ready," Trent muttered, slapping a wad of gauze over the gash on Clay's leg, mercifully hiding it from view. Hastily, he taped it down. "This'll do for now, though he needs a hell of a lot more than I can give him here."</p><p>"We good to move them?" Ray asked tensely, not having had much luck rousing Jason.</p><p>Sonny let his hand rest upon Clay's shoulder – the gentle rise and fall of his boy's breathing was comforting; the constant tremor that vibrated through the younger man, not so much.</p><p>Trent nodded, obviously unhappy with the fact that he had to wait to administer more aid. Field medicine was a bitch, in that regard. "I'm thinking one of them between two of us. Leaves us each a gun arm free. Careful with their heads, face them forwards in case they vomit."</p><p>At Ray's frown, Trent clarified, "Pretty sure they both have concussions." Hastily, he grabbed up his supplies, shoved them back in his pack. "And keep a good grip on them, in case they wake up in a panic."</p><p>Brock stepped closer, struggling to keep Cerb from licking worriedly at the top of Clay's head.</p><p>Sonny didn't hesitate. Gently, he lifted Clay's closest arm. Ducking under it, he tilted the kid upright. Snaking an arm around Clay's back, he propped his boy against him, waiting while Trent gathered the last of his gear.</p><p>Brock moved to help Ray with Jason, also carefully lifting their team leader upright between them.</p><p>Ray paused, keyed his comms. "One, this is Two. We're ready to move. Once Bravo Five and I are out the door with Jason, head in and help Bravo Six with Miguel." He paused, then added. "Six, sit tight."</p><p>"Copy that," came Blackburn's steady reply.</p><p>And then, a slightly more broken, "Copy," from their temporary Bravo Six.</p><p>Sonny's gut froze.</p><p><em>Oh, shit</em>.</p><p>In the rush of finding Jason and Clay, he hadn't paid attention to Ray's communication at the time. His sole focus had been getting inside that stuffy old freezer room, needing to check whether his boy was even still alive. He'd heard something about Miguel, but he had no idea of the Honduran team leader's status.</p><p>It was a rookie move – failing to split his focus, because he'd been so caught up in his emotions. He would beat himself up later.</p><p>"Ray?" he found himself calling, as he and Trent hurriedly carried Clay's limp body behind the others.</p><p>Ray's steps slowed marginally. He shot Sonny a backwards glance, Jason's head rolling towards Brock at the movement.</p><p>Sonny's throat was tight, words thick. "Miguel …?"</p><p>Ray didn't make mention of the fact that Sonny should have already known the answer to that question. Bravo Two just solemnly shook his head, continuing forwards towards the warehouse entry.</p><p>Sonny's stomach dropped. His gaze darted briefly to Clay, and then over his shoulder towards the two other rooms at the back of the building, an undeniably painful weight suddenly pulling at him.</p><p>Once at the building's entry, Blackburn ducked inside, ready to assist Felipe. Ray and Brock hurried Jason over the threshold and out into the night, and Trent went to follow, but Sonny pulled them up short, catching Blackburn's attention.</p><p>"Hey -" Sonny hurriedly gestured for their commander to trade places.</p><p>Blackburn hesitated a moment, but then obliged without further question – a splinter of understanding flickering across his features.</p><p>Sonny gently passed off Clay's weight, ignoring Trent's confused look. "You got him?" He asked Blackburn, voice more fragile than he would have liked. Losing contact with Clay wasn't ideal, but he knew that his boy would understand.</p><p>"I've got him," Blackburn confirmed, readjusting his grip on the younger man. He nodded towards the back of the warehouse, leveling Sonny with a look. "Go."</p><p>Sonny cast one more glance at his unconscious – but <em>alive</em> - best friend, before giving a clipped nod and rushing back through the large open space.</p><p>He found Felipe in the second room, kneeling by his fallen team leader – struggling to pull the larger man's lifeless body upright.</p><p>Sonny's steps faltered, as he noted the bullet wound in the center of Miguel's forehead. His eyes darted to Felipe, and his heart broke a little at the tears streaking down the younger man's face.</p><p>How many times had he witnessed a scene like this?</p><p><em>Too fucking many</em>.</p><p>Coming to a kneel on Miguel's other side, Sonny tentatively reached out a hand, gripped Felipe's shaking shoulder.</p><p>Felipe's NODs were up, his headlamp dimly illuminating the space. His expression was broken.</p><p>Sonny flicked his own NODs up, seeking and holding the younger man's grief-stricken gaze. He kept his hand in place, offering what little comfort he could.</p><p>Felipe's attention dropped back down to his fallen team mate. Jerkily, he shook his head. "He wont be remembered for all the good he did," he stated quietly, words fractured. "Once it's known what he did, he'll be forgotten."</p><p>Sonny exhaled sadly, dropping his hand from Felipe's shoulder.</p><p>Felipe pinned him with a hollow look. "He wasn't just my team leader," he admitted quietly, another tear rolling down his cheek. "He was my best friend." He made no move to dry his eyes. "He was the big brother I never had."</p><p>And didn't that just tear Sonny apart.</p><p>Felipe scrunched his brow, shook his head at Sonny. "How can you even look at him?" He asked, grief bringing a sharp edge to his tone that Sonny knew the younger man probably didn't intend. "He nearly killed your team mates. How can you not want to leave him here to rot?"</p><p>Sonny's gaze skipped between Miguel's unseeing eyes, and Felipe's tear-filled ones. He felt his own eyes pricking. Vulnerability wasn't really Sonny's thing, and yet, his answer was raw and honest. "Because I know what it's like to lose a brother," he spoke quietly. Gently, he reached forward, pushed Miguel's lids closed.</p><p>Felipe's shoulders shook, as he struggled to swallow down sobs.</p><p>Sonny carefully lifted Miguel's closest arm, in much the same way he'd recently lifted Clay's – ducking under it and pulling it across his shoulders. He nodded at Felipe to take the man's other side.</p><p>After another moment, Felipe drew an unsteady breath. A mixture of heartbreak and sincere gratitude played across his features, as he shifted into position. Together, they lifted Miguel upright, flipping down their NODs and readjusting their grip on their rifles.</p><p>Sonny cast one more look at the dark-haired man who reminded him so painfully much of Clay. "Let's get him home," he stated simply.</p><p>Felipe gave a jerky nod.</p><p>There was nothing more Sonny could say to ease the younger man's pain. But he could help carry some of the weight, at least for the moment.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies for the slower update. Hectic week, and not a lot of time or enthusiasm to write. Nearly there though! One more chapter after this, and an epilogue. Many thanks for the encouraging comments :) Apologies for any mistakes. Hope you're safe, wherever you are. Thanks so much for reading! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason registered the vibrations and movement beneath him, even before anything else. For the third time in one evening, he hauled himself back to consciousness, fighting against a sudden spike of panic.</p><p>"Jason? You with us?"</p><p>He blinked rapidly, eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light around him. He appeared to be inside a vehicle - the rev of its engine meeting his ears.</p><p>Trent's face swam into view.</p><p>And at the sight of Bravo Four, Jason's threatening confusion and panic left him in a welcome rush.</p><p>"You're safe, deep breaths," Trent urged, a grounding hand finding Jason's shoulder. "We've got you."</p><p>Jason blinked around, his fuzzy brain catching up. "<em>Clay -</em>" His throat was scratchy, and his voice barely made it over his lips. Desperately, he tried to push upright.</p><p>But Trent held him firm. "He's here," he hastily assured, nodding to Jason's left. "He's okay."</p><p>Jason swung his gaze. Head spinning, he forced his eyes to focus.</p><p>Clay lay on his back a foot away; the glint of an emergency blanket draped over him, and Sonny's worried face hovering close by.</p><p>Jason pinned Sonny with a look – or at least, he tried to. It was tricky with the vehicle's jerks. "He really okay?" It wasn't that he didn't believe Trent. It was just … the kid had been through the fucking wringer.</p><p>Sonny was crouched at Clay's head. An IV line snaked past him towards the bench seat at his back. He had a hand on Clay's closest shoulder, steadying the kid against the vehicle's rocks and jolts. "Better when he wakes up," he replied, squeezing a thin smile. "Welcome back, boss."</p><p>Jason's eyes swam in and out of focus. His chest felt tight. He cast a glance further up the vehicle, reassured by the familiar outlines of Brock and Cerb. "Everyone okay?" He asked, bringing his gaze back to Trent. He concentrated on drawing even breaths, ignoring the relentless shakes that traveled through him.</p><p>Trent hesitated a moment, before nodding.</p><p>Even in Jason's dazed state, he picked up on the flicker of emotion that passed over his medic's features. His stomach clenched. "Ray?" He tried to push upright again, as fear prickled through him. "Where's Ray?"</p><p>Trent quickly stopped his momentum. "Ray's driving, he's fine. Blackburn's here too. Stay down."</p><p>Jason stubbornly remained semi-upright a moment longer, throwing a look around. His eyes landed on a familiar man, hunched forward on the bench seat by the rear doors. It took a moment for his mind to label the face. It was the Honduran 2IC, Felipe. Suddenly, his stomach dropped.</p><p>"Miguel …" His voice trailed off, as he remembered what had happened. Reluctantly, he allowed Trent to push him back down to a horizontal position.</p><p>Trent readjusted Jason's emergency blanket. Nodded soberly. "We know," was all he said.</p><p>Jason blinked at the blanket. Had it been there this whole time? His eyes caught on an IV line snaking from his own arm, and he followed it to a bag of fluids resting on the bench seat beside him. With every passing second, his foggy mind was clearing just that little bit more. Unfortunately, it also brought his attention to the fierce pounding in his head, as well as his mild nausea.</p><p>"Just lay still," Trent encouraged, lifting Jason's wrist and counting beats. "Slow, deep breaths. Someone nearly turned your lights out for good."</p><p>Jason squeezed his eyes closed. The events of his and Clay's ordeal were crashing back into him with frightening force.</p><p>
  <em>Jose, Clay's interrogation, the freezer room …</em>
</p><p>Flinging his eyes open again, Jason felt his stomach clench. He twisted his face towards Clay. "They hurt him," he said, voice still not quite working properly. "They cut into his damned leg, right into the scar …" Jerkily, he pulled his left arm from under the blanket, reached over to his boy. He found Clay's closest hand, gripped it tight.</p><p>Sonny's eyes glinted in the dim. "We saw."</p><p>Clay's hand was warm, trembling in Jason's grip.</p><p>Jason lost control of his breathing; anger and heartbreak flaring within him as he remembered Clay's distress. His eyes pricked, and he swallowed thickly. Seeking Trent once again, he recalled, "And they … they gave him something."</p><p>Trent stiffened, attention sharpening. "What sort of something?"</p><p>Jason forced his breathing back under control, swung his gaze back to Clay. "Something … to make him talk. Sodium thiopental."</p><p>Trent cursed.</p><p>Sonny looked like he'd been slapped. He tore his eyes away from Clay to level Jason with a bewildered look. "If that's the case," he said, "then just how the fuck're you both still alive?"</p><p>Jason rubbed a thumb against the back of Clay's hand – the movement more anxious than reassuring. <em>Good question</em>. He wasn't ready to answer it. At least, not in detail. He settled for something close enough to the truth. "Shit load of luck." He swallowed shakily, and then added, "Kid passed out … before he gave us away."</p><p>A splintered smile flickered over Sonny's expression. He shook his head, muttering something about his boy's ridiculous, unwavering stubbornness.</p><p>Trent scrubbed a hand over his eyes, blew out a breath. "Any idea how long ago he was given it?"</p><p>Jason had no fucking clue. Time had become a jumbled mess, somewhere after they'd been thrown in the freezer room. He shook his head – wincing as he forgot about the sore spot at the back.</p><p>Trent looked troubled for a moment longer. Hurriedly, he shuffled towards the front, exchanged words with Ray and Blackburn. Jason heard him mention something about calling through to the base's infirmary, checking drug interactions with what Clay had been given.</p><p>Jason's grip on Clay's limp hand remained firm. "We're not taking him to a hospital?" He questioned when Trent returned.</p><p>Trent shook his head grimly. "Decided it's too risky," he replied, shifting towards Clay and checking the younger man's vitals. "The cartel responsible for taking you guys probably thinks you're dead. If they have eyes and ears at the local hospital …" He left the rest unsaid, flicking his penlight across Clay's pupils. "Base infirmary will have to do, for now. That's why I need Clay to wake up – so that I can gauge how badly off he is." He pocketed the penlight. "Anything else you can tell me?"</p><p>Jason grunted as the van hit an especially rough patch of road, causing his head to throb harder.</p><p>Ray threw a hasty apology over his shoulder.</p><p>"They drugged us," Jason muttered, thinking back. "When they took us. But it didn't linger too long. Sedative of sorts, I'm guessing."</p><p>Trent pursed his lips, mentally cataloging the information.</p><p>"Jose - he whacked Clay's head on the floor pretty hard," Jason recalled, wanting to curl away from the unpleasant memory. "Roughed him up, once he was conscious." He swallowed uncomfortably. "Cut him up."</p><p>The shadowed parts of Sonny's face grew even darker. His eyes flicked away from Jason to glance down at his unconscious best friend.</p><p>"Jose?" Trent questioned. "As in, Jose <em>Delgado</em>?"</p><p>Jason nodded stiffly. "As in … piece-of-shit-asshole, whose days are numbered." And by God, he meant that.</p><p>Trent threw a look at Brock, gestured for that information to be passed down the line to Blackburn and Ray.</p><p>Sonny dipped his head towards the rear of the vehicle. "Thanks to Felipe, we figured it was his cartel responsible for taking you guys," he explained. "Didn't realize you had the honor of meeting the man himself."</p><p>Jason twisted, casting a look towards the Honduran. The man sat quietly, hollow gaze to the floor. Twisting some more, Jason realized with a start that there was a body by the rear doors. His gut clenched as he registered that it was Miguel.</p><p>Emotions churning, he pulled his attention back to his brothers. Drawing some steadying breaths, he attempted to chase away the unnerving feeling brought about by the Honduran team leader's betrayal. He rubbed at the back of Clay's hand once more, re-grounding himself. "Felipe helped you guys find us?" He asked Sonny.</p><p>Sonny bobbed his head. "Provided information that helped Davis find the warehouse you were being held in."</p><p>Jason allowed the twitch of a fond smile. It didn't surprise him that Davis had found the building – that woman was amazing.</p><p>"And, Goldilocks here …" Sonny reached to smooth down some of Clay's unruly curls. "By sneaking a tracker, he pointed us in the right direction. Gave us a target vehicle, as well as a search area."</p><p>Ah, yes, the tracker<em>. </em>Jason was supposed to kick Clay's ass for that.</p><p>Suddenly, Clay's hand twitched - as if the kid sensed he was being spoken about.</p><p>Flicking his focus to his boy, Jason hurriedly squeezed back, pulling himself partly upright to get a better look at Clay's face.</p><p>"He coming round?" Trent quickly shuffled closer, leaning in. Intently, he watched the younger man's scrunching brow. "Clay? You with us, buddy? Open your eyes."</p><p>Jason tightened his grip on his boy's hand.</p><p>Within another moment, and much to his immense relief, Clay gave a shaky squeeze back.</p><p>Sonny rubbed Clay's shoulder gently. "C'mon kiddo, open your eyes."</p><p>Finally, with lashes fluttering, Clay pried his eyes open to half-mast.</p><p>And Jason released the painful breath he'd been holding.</p><p>Clay's disoriented gaze swam. His chest hitched as he fought down reflexive panic.</p><p>"You're safe," Trent assured, reaching under the blanket and placing a hand upon the younger man's chest – subtly gauging his breathing. "We've got you. Jason's here too. Deep, slow breaths. That's it."</p><p>Clay shifted about, eyes darting from Trent, to Sonny, and then finally to Jason. His throat worked, as he struggled to get himself under control, regain his bearings.</p><p>"You're okay," Jason echoed Trent's words, rubbing circles once more on the back of Clay's violently shaking hand. "We're both okay."</p><p>Clay's gaze skipped jerkily around once more, as if not quite believing it. Eventually, he relaxed somewhat, a choked sob breaking over his lips. His right hand fumbled towards Sonny, fingers curling around the Texan's forearm. "Really here?" He rasped.</p><p>Sonny's eyes were glassy. He gave a jerky nod, covered Clay's hand with his free one. "Really here," he echoed. And then he added, with a quirk of his lip. "We followed the Bat-Signal."</p><p>Clay's eyes slipped closed. For a moment, raw relief washed over his too-pale face. He huffed – which unfortunately resulted in a breathless coughing fit.</p><p>"Easy," Trent soothed, his hand still on Clay's chest. "You're okay. We'll get you on some oxygen, once we're back at base."</p><p>Jason winced, knowing how much Clay's lungs were probably aching. His own didn't feel so crash-hot.</p><p>Clay managed to get his breathing under control – though his chest still hitched, and his body continued to shake with tremors. He blinked watery eyes up towards the vehicle's ceiling. "You found the tracker?" He rasped, tilting his attention to Sonny.</p><p>The Texan nodded, squeezed a tight smile.</p><p>Clay's eyelids bobbed sluggishly. He rolled his face in the opposite direction, towards Jason. "You know what that means?" he said, twitching a lip and squeezing Jason's hand.</p><p>Jason held firm, as if it could stop them both from shaking.</p><p>Clay pushed an exhausted smile, his blue eyes glinting in the dim. "You owe me a case of beer."</p><p>STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST</p><p>Sonny hovered, in much the same way as Ray and Brock, trying to keep out of the way as the base doctor finished her check of Clay and Jason.</p><p>They'd stripped off their tac gear, but hadn't cleaned up. Blackburn had announced he would go check in with Davis and the Honduran CO, allowing the members of Bravo to stick together - which was something they undeniably needed right now.</p><p>There was one chair in the small room, between Clay's bed and the wall, and it was currently occupied by Cerberus. The dog leaned his head atop the mattress, allowing Clay's shaky fingers to card through his fur.</p><p>The doctor had sternly told them to '<em>get that animal out of here'</em> when they'd first blustered in. But she'd since retracted that comment – possibly due to the threatening look Cerb had shot her; or, more likely, the way Clay's breathing and heartrate had calmed as soon as he'd started petting his furry brother.</p><p>Sonny stood, leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He was actually hugging himself against the post-adrenaline shakes that rattled through him, trying to calm his still-sensitive stomach as it threatened to unload its meager contents, but hopefully no one would call him out. It turned out that the aftermath of nearly losing two of his best friends felt like a violent crash landing. Instead of feeling calm and relieved, his mind was unhelpfully throwing all sorts of what-if scenarios at him; such as, what if they'd got there just a little later? What if Davis hadn't found the building? What if Felipe hadn't answered the phone call, and Clay hadn't taken the tracker?</p><p>"Sonny?"</p><p>Sonny turned abruptly, meeting Brock's concerned eyes. Something told him it wasn't the first time Bravo Five had said his name.</p><p>"You good?" Brock's gaze was intense, assessing.</p><p>Sonny drew a deep, shaky breath. <em>Shake it off, cowboy</em>. He squeezed a thin smile, nodded jerkily.</p><p>Brock didn't look convinced, bumped gently against Sonny's shoulder. "They're okay," he reassured. "Let's take the win for what it is."</p><p>Sonny huffed. Bravo Five was a man of few words, but when he did have something to say, it usually hit the mark – and he'd obviously picked up on Sonny's post-trauma spiral.</p><p>The doctor finished scribbling some notes, pulled up beside Trent.</p><p>"At this point," she stated, "I don't see any reason they can't fly in the morning."</p><p>Sonny breathed an internal sigh of relief. To be honest, the sooner they left this place, the better.</p><p>"Bloods have been sent off to the local hospital for a toxicity screening," she continued. "We should have the results within the hour. In the meantime, I'm hesitant to give them anything other than fluids and oxygen."</p><p>Trent nodded his understanding.</p><p>Sonny's gaze fell upon Clay.</p><p>The younger man groggily blinked over his oxygen mask. Poor kid was sliced up and had to be hurting. It felt wrong that they couldn't even give him Tylenol.</p><p>"I'll be back once I hear from the hospital," the doctor told them, gathering her notes and moving to leave the room.</p><p>Trent thanked her, saying that he would keep an eye on their two men in the meantime.</p><p>She paused, cast another displeased look towards Cerberus. Releasing a frustrated sigh, she left the room.</p><p>Sonny peeled himself from the wall and took up a seat at the end of Clay's bed, figuring Cerberus wasn't going to give up the chair any time soon. He found Clay's blanket-covered foot, gave it a light squeeze. "Doin' alright, buddy?" Stupid question, really. Of course Clay wasn't doing okay.</p><p>Clay's response was delayed – a side effect of the drug, concussion, and oxygen deprivation, apparently. He gave a shaky thumbs up.</p><p>"That's a no, then," Sonny huffed, giving a light smile.</p><p>Clay rolled his eyes – or at least, tried to. It looked like an uncoordinated half-blink.</p><p>Jason pulled down his oxygen mask, pushing upright.</p><p>Trent cursed at him – pushed him roughly back down. "Mask stays on," he stated firmly.</p><p>Jason released a ragged sigh. He went to argue, but Ray stepped in, backing Trent up.</p><p>"Just a while longer," Bravo Two urged; ever the voice of reason.</p><p>Jason obviously wasn't happy about it, but he appeared too tired to argue, and obediently stayed put.</p><p>Clay shifted, coughed. His IV free hand went to his chest, and he coughed again – and again, and again, squeezing his eyes closed against the jarring movement.</p><p>Sonny rubbed the younger man's foot, glanced worriedly at Trent.</p><p>Trent was by Clay's side, holding his shoulder steady as Clay tried to curl in on himself. "Easy," he soothed.</p><p>"He okay?" Jason had once again removed his mask, was half-upright.</p><p>Trent shot him a reproachful look, gestured for him to <em>lay the fuck back down</em>. "He's okay," he answered, keeping an eye on the monitor displaying Clay's vitals. "Nasty side-effect of sodium thiopental. The cough should let up once it leaves his system."</p><p>Jason stubbornly remained upright, until Clay's coughing fit had subsided.</p><p>Trent gently pressed Clay back down against his pillow. "That's it. Get your breathing back under control. Nice slow inhales."</p><p>Clay's trembling hand once more sought the top of Cerb's head. His eyes were squeezed closed, but after a moment rubbing at the dog's ears, he pulled them open again.</p><p>Sonny hadn't stopped rubbing Clay's foot. He would admit, it was probably working to reassure him more than his little brother. He glanced at Trent. "Why's he shaking so much?" He could feel the tremors, even through the blanket.</p><p>Trent gently readjusted Clay's oxygen mask. "Another nasty side-effect," he replied with a sigh. "As well as from the trauma of everything else."</p><p>A heaviness settled about them, silence encroaching as Trent finished fussing over Clay.</p><p>There were pain lines around Clay's eyes that betrayed his discomfort. It broke Sonny's heart that they weren't allowed to give the kid anything for it.</p><p>"How long before that toxicity report comes in?" Jason asked, pulling his oxygen mask away from his mouth again – eyes firmly fixed on Clay.</p><p>Ray stepped over to Jason's bed, pointedly sat on the edge to prevent Jason going anywhere.</p><p>Jason glared, replaced the mask – returned his eyes to Clay.</p><p>"Within the hour," Trent replied, checking both men's IV lines. He offered Clay a sympathetic look. "Once we get the okay, we can start some antibiotics, and hopefully painkillers."</p><p>Clay just sank further into his pillow, eyes sagging. Whether he was completely aware of what going on, was up for debate. Poor kid was exhausted – physically, and no doubt mentally, as well.</p><p>Sonny swallowed roughly, thinking about the angry looking cut on Clay's thigh. Trent had cleaned it as best he could, covered it up, but the risk of infection was high. The last thing Clay needed, after all of this, was a fever and an even angrier wound. With every second that went by that risk increased. "Surely antibiotics would be okay?" Sonny suggested.</p><p>Trent pursed his lips, shook his head. "Not my call," he replied, a hint of frustration lining his tone. "The base doctor is the most qualified, and she's decided to wait." He snagged a thermometer, held it over Clay's forehead. "We don't know what antibiotics are compatible with whatever's still circulating his system. A bad reaction from mixing drugs could leave him worse off than an infection."</p><p>Sonny wanted to argue, but Trent had a point. They would just have to hope that luck was on Clay's side.</p><p>Trent removed the thermometer, seeming satisfied – for now. Sonny had no doubt that their medic wouldn't sit still, would keep checking and re-checking their brothers' vitals in the time it took the doctor to return. Trent struggled to hand over the reins – especially after a close call like this one.</p><p>Clay shifted, shaky hand wobbling up to his mask. "Trent -" His voice was muffled. He lifted the mask away from his mouth, tried again. "Trent -"</p><p>Even despite the rasp and slur around Clay's voice, the fragility of his tone was obvious. It caused Sonny to grip his boy's foot more tightly, and Jason to attempt to sit up again.</p><p>"Right here, buddy," Trent replied, leaning in.</p><p>Clay pulled at his mask again, eyes darting down his body towards Sonny. But his focus skipped over the Texan, landed somewhere closer to his right thigh. "My leg …" There was a hitch to his chest, as he tried to shift his injured limb against the mattress. "Is it -?"</p><p>Trent was quick to reply. "Leg's fine," he hastily assured, keeping a grounding hand upon Clay's shoulder – attention flitting briefly to the heart monitor as it picked up speed.</p><p>"It's okay?" Clay asked again, pinning Trent with a desperate look, before skipping his gaze to Sonny.</p><p>"All good, buddy." Sonny made sure to sound convincing – though his own voice was frustratingly unsteady.</p><p>"Nothing to worry about," Trent stated. Pushed a strained smile.</p><p>It wasn't entirely true. They all knew that Clay could develop an infection that might set the healing process back by weeks, cause a shit-load more damage. But that wasn't what the younger man needed to hear right now.</p><p>Sonny somehow managed to squeeze a tight smile – as reassuring as he could muster.</p><p>Perhaps Clay bought it, or perhaps he was too exhausted to keep trying to sit up and talk. He sagged back, allowing Trent to replace the mask.</p><p>"Just focus on your breathing, for now," Trent suggested gently.</p><p>It hadn't escaped Sonny's notice that Clay's oxygen levels still weren't ideal.</p><p>Cerb nudged at their boy's hand.</p><p>A soft smile brushed Brock's lips as Clay once again sought and found the dog's head.</p><p>Cerb allowed his eyes to close, enjoying the ear rub.</p><p>And Clay's eyelids sagged once again, his features relaxing - heartrate and breathing returning to normal.</p><p>The door popped open, and Davis slipped in.</p><p>Sonny felt relieved just to see her.</p><p>She stepped closer to the beds, gaze traveling over Jason and Clay. Her shoulders were rigid, but seeing her boys all in one piece seemed to lift some of the weight she was carrying. She squeezed a thin smile, though it didn't reach her eyes.</p><p>"The other team caught up with the target vehicle," she reported, keeping her voice quiet – possibly not wanting to answer what would likely be a thousand questions from Jason, whose eyes had drifted closed. She released a heavy sigh. "Only one occupant. They brought him in alive. He'll be questioned."</p><p>"Jose?" Ray whispered hopefully.</p><p>Davis shook her head.</p><p>Sonny cursed under his breath.</p><p>"Turns out he's good at being a ghost," she admitted bitterly. "Guess you don't get far in that type of business if you're too easy to find."</p><p>"You'll find him," Sonny stated. He had complete faith that she would. And when she did, the asshat would get what he deserved.</p><p>"Might not be us who gets to go after him," Ray pointed out, darting a glance at Sonny, as if gauging his reaction.</p><p>Sonny didn't like it. But … "Priority needs to be getting these guys home," he answered levelly.</p><p>Even Brock raised a brow at the Texan's uncharacteristic sense of reason.</p><p>"Revenge can come later," Sonny added. Even if it didn't come from them, personally, Jose Dickgado would damned well get what was coming to him.</p><p>The others murmured their quiet agreement.</p><p>Davis pulled a steadying breath. "I'd better get back," she sighed. "Just came to check in." She let her eyes linger on Jason a moment longer, and then on Clay, as if solidifying their presence in her mind – reassuring herself that they really <em>were</em> okay. She quirked a lip. "Don't want to leave Blackburn to fend for himself."</p><p>She went to leave, but Trent stopped her. "Take Sonny," the medic requested. "See he eats something."</p><p>Sonny opened his mouth to protest, but Trent firmly cut him off. "You're as pale as these two." He waved at Clay and Jason. "And you look like you're about to fall over."</p><p>Davis knew better than to go against Trent's orders. "Come on," she agreed, snagging Sonny's hand and gently pulling him upright.</p><p>Sonny would never admit it, but it took him a moment to find his balance, and his head spun a little.</p><p>"Eat," Trent directed sternly, giving Sonny his best threatening look – which was actually pretty damned scary, and had even been known to work on Jason in the past.</p><p>Sonny resisted the urge to pull a finger sign. His steps faltered as he approached the door, his reluctance to leave the room slowing him down.</p><p>"They're not going anywhere," Ray reasoned.</p><p>Sonny didn't like it, but he knew that if he didn't get his blood sugar up, he probably <em>would</em> faceplant at some point. "Keep an eye on my boy," he told Cerb, pinning the dog with a hard look.</p><p>Cerberus flicked his ears back, gave a reassuring side-glance. Did he wink? Sonny could have sworn he just winked. He wouldn't put it past Brock to teach his furry sidekick something like that.</p><p>Davis gently pulled on Sonny's sleeve, getting him moving again.</p><p>With once last glance at Clay, Sonny allowed her to lead him through the door and into the quiet hallway beyond.</p><p>Once the door was closed, she caught him off guard by hurriedly pulling him into a fierce embrace.</p><p>It knocked the air from his lungs, and Sonny felt himself sag against her, realizing with a start just how much he needed it.</p><p>Davis' breath was jerky against his neck. She gave a small, broken, half-sob half-laugh.</p><p>"They're gonna be okay," Sonny said, voice strained from how hard she was squeezing him.</p><p>Davis held on a moment longer, before abruptly releasing him. Hands either side of his shoulders, she stepped back, studied him intently. "You do look pale," she stated, eyes damp, and worry dancing over her features.</p><p>"Feel like I might hurl." The admission was over Sonny's lips before he had a chance to jerk it back. She'd always been good at drawing the honest truth from him.</p><p>Her worried expression hardened. "Let's find you some food then," she replied, cocking her head in the direction of the mess hall.</p><p>Sonny hesitated a moment. He gently pulled away from her grasp. "Hey," he said quietly, darting a look around to be sure they were alone. "How's, uh … How's Felipe?"</p><p>Davis' eyes grew sad. Her gaze flitted to the floor. "Like a man who's just lost his best friend," she answered eventually.</p><p>Sonny felt his throat constrict.</p><p>That had nearly been him, tonight.</p><p>"He's dealing with the fallout," Davis continued, as they began to walk. "From Miguel's involvement. I feel for him."</p><p>Sonny's gut knotted.</p><p><em>He wont be remembered for all the good he did</em>.</p><p>Despite Sonny's anger and deep sense of betrayal from the Honduran team leader, there was a part of him that felt he owed it to Felipe to do his best to remember that Miguel had been trying to save his little brother.</p><p>"You okay?" Davis asked, darting him a glance as they walked. Her tone was gentle, concerned.</p><p>He swallowed roughly.</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>But he would be.</p><p>Jason and Clay were safe – and that was all that mattered, for now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you've got this far - thank you! I'm always surprised when I get this far! Lol. Just the epilogue to go :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rumble of the C-17 had never sounded so good. Jason leaned back against the netting, slumped on the bench seat with his legs stretched out.</p><p>Nearby, Clay lay sleeping, strapped to a gurney. Trent leaned over him, adjusting the flow of the IV antibiotics, and holding a thermometer above his forehead for the third time in the past half hour.</p><p>Once the toxicity report had come back, the base doctor had given the okay for antibiotics, but had instructed Trent to hold off on anything else. Tylenol was a no-go, though thankfully a low dose of morphine was approved for the plane ride home. It would knock Clay out, help him get some much-needed rest. Once he was handed over to the hospital in Virginia Beach, they could run another screening and make their own judgement call from there.</p><p>Jason was relieved that Clay had at least been given something for the pain. The poor kid had hardly slept a wink in the Honduran base hospital, due to his discomfort, and he was beyond exhausted. Hell, none of them had really slept, as they'd waited for morning. They all sat around now, slumped in various positions along the plane's bench seat, trying their best to catch some z's - all within noticeably close proximity to their sleeping boy.</p><p>Jason let one eye slip closed – kept the other open to watch Trent finish fussing over Clay. He was bone-weary, and yet, he hadn't been able to drift off. The events of the past fourteen hours were charging through his head, threatening to unravel him.</p><p>He'd been in a bad place, mentally, <em>before</em> this trip. But he'd clawed his way back from the ledge. After what had just happened to him and Clay, he found himself precariously teetering again.</p><p>Ray slid along the bench seat to Jason's right, bumped gently against his shoulder.</p><p>Jason re-opened both his eyes, gave his best friend a drained look.</p><p>For a few moments, neither of them said anything. And Jason was surprised by the comfort he felt from Ray's shoulder pressed against his, as if it was working to ground him; somehow halt the washing machine of emotions churning within him.</p><p>He was safe. Clay was safe. And yet … the lingering tendrils of anxiety remained.</p><p>"Doing alright?" Ray asked eventually. His voice was quiet, remaining between the two of them.</p><p>Jason grunted. No, he absolutely wasn't doing alright.</p><p>Ray scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes. He nodded towards Clay. "You think he'll be okay?"</p><p>Jason chewed his lip, watched the rise and fall of Clay's chest. "His leg will heal. Trent said the cut's not that deep. Hopefully the antibiotics will keep infection away."</p><p>Ray cast a side-glance at his best friend. "Wasn't talking about his leg," he said softly.</p><p>Jason knew that. He pulled a very shaky breath, leaned forward and let his hands hang between his knees. His head pounded lightly, but it had eased off with Tylenol. He felt guilty for being allowed to take it, when Clay had to put up with the pain. Finding a spot on the metal floor of the aircraft, he let his eyes slip out of focus. His hands were still shaky - not visibly, but he could feel a tremor running through them.</p><p>Ray joined him leaning forward, darted a glance.</p><p>"I had to watch them hurt him, you know," Jason admitted eventually, voice horribly cracked. He met Ray's eyes, swallowed around the grating lump in his throat. "They hurt him, because they knew it would hurt me." The words ached, like he was dredging them up from deep within him.</p><p>Sadness and sympathy settled over Ray's features. He lifted a hand, placed it gently upon Jason's back.</p><p>"Wasn't a damned thing I could do about it, either," Jason continued. His eyes pricked, and he shook his head – trying to shake the awful memories away. But they clung on. "All I could do was sit there, useless, and watch."</p><p>Ray sighed heavily. "Sometimes, just being there <em>is</em> the best we can do," he reassured. "You know Clay would never blame you for what happened. If the roles had been reversed, you wouldn't blame him."</p><p>Of course Jason knew. It didn't make the crushing weight any less though. If he'd been able to trade places at any point, he would have. Anything not to have to watch his boy hurt like that.</p><p>He studied the patch of floor, didn't take his eyes off it when he said, "You know, the reason Clay didn't share his suspicions about Miguel with any of us, was because he was worried we wouldn't take him seriously."</p><p>Ray was silent for a moment. He frowned down at his hands, expression unsettled. "Why on earth would he think that?"</p><p>Jason sighed, thinking back over Clay's behavior since he'd rejoined the team. The kid had been more reserved, quiet – as if he'd been treading carefully, perhaps struggling to find his feet again. "Said he was worried we'd just think he was being paranoid. He felt like we were all waiting for him to fuck up," he admitted.</p><p>Ray's brow creased, his dark eyes troubled.</p><p>"Everyone's been checking in on him a lot, since he came back," Jason continued. "I think perhaps he mistook our concern for judgement." He felt sadness tug at him. "Don't think he's used to having people genuinely care about him."</p><p>Ray ran a hand over his cropped hair. "I guess we still have work to do, then," he concluded. "I thought perhaps he'd shaken those trust issues."</p><p>"They're pretty deep-set," Jason pointed out. "He had, what, twenty-seven years of people letting him down, abandoning him, prior to us. Can't expect that to change in a hurry."</p><p>Both of their eyes drifted across to their sleeping boy.</p><p>Jason straightened, leaned back against the netting.</p><p>Ray followed, folding his arms over his chest – shoulder bumping against Jason's once again.</p><p>"This trip," Jason sighed, tilting his head forward so as not to put weight on the still-tender egg at the back, "was <em>supposed</em> to be a breather."</p><p>Ray huffed.</p><p>Jason muttered an under-the-breath string of curses. It was like a bad joke, the way it had gone so fucking sideways. Sometimes, he wondered whether Ray's God hated him. "I was enjoying the break," he admitted, more than a little bitterly. "I needed it."</p><p>Ray considered a moment. "You could still take a break," he suggested delicately.</p><p>Jason knew that Ray had picked up on his precarious mental state. His best friend had carefully questioned, tried to offer support – but Jason had brushed the concern off, as usual. Perhaps it was time to man-up, admit that he needed some time out. He blew out an unsteady breath, nodded slowly. He'd been thinking about it, since they'd left Honduras. He told Ray as much.</p><p>Ray did his best not to show his relief.</p><p>"Was thinking I might take a few weeks," Jason admitted. "I figure Clay will be out for that long, at least. Thought maybe I could, I dunno, keep an eye on him."</p><p>The tug of a smile pulled at Ray's lips. He nodded, approving. "Sounds good."</p><p>And Jason didn't know what made him continue, but the words were over his lips before he could stop them. "Emma and Mikey are away, you know. I feel like I may as well direct my parental energy at someone."</p><p>That drew a curious look from Ray. "You think Clay needs mothering?"</p><p>Jason huffed, cast a look towards his boy. He slowly shook his head. "No," he replied thoughtfully. "He doesn't need mothering." Not in so many words. "But he does need <em>fathering</em>."</p><p>Ray snorted, a small laugh escaping. "And you're going to be the one to do that," he stated, raising a questioning brow.</p><p>Jason eyed his best friend. "You think I'm being silly?"</p><p>Ray shook his head, a knowing look settling over his features. "No," he replied quickly, smile lingering. "I'm just …" He dropped the end of his sentence, gaze drifting towards Clay. Eventually he brought it back, picked up his words. "I'm just surprised it's taken you this long to figure it out."</p><p>"Figure what out?" Jason questioned, not necessarily liking that there was more to this than he'd realized.</p><p>Ray patted Jason's knee. "Why do you think I pushed so hard for you to draft the kid, in the first place?"</p><p>Jason frowned. "I don't know," he muttered. "Maybe because you saw the asset he could be to our team, while I was caught on his cockiness?"</p><p>Ray shook his head. "I saw that he needed someone to look up to. Not just a team leader. And Adam agreed – you were the right person for that job."</p><p>Jason felt a pang at the mention of his late friend. He allowed a small, bittersweet smile to brush his lips. "Adam was always a good judge of character."</p><p>Ray nodded, returned the smile. "He drafted us, didn't he?"</p><p>Yes, yes he had. Jason stared at his annoyingly perceptive best friend a moment longer, before swinging his eyes back over to Clay. He wasn't quite ready to tell Ray that Clay had called him 'Dad' while under the influence of the truth serum. It was a little treasure that he would keep to himself, for a while longer, at least.</p><p>Ray cleared his throat. "So," he said quietly, changing the topic. "You think you might want to consider laying down, for a bit?"</p><p>Jason's eyes narrowed. Slowly, he turned his attention back to his number two, leveling Ray with a look. "Did Trent put you up to coming over here, try to convince me to rest?" He threw a scowl towards the medic – who gave Jason a reproachful look in return.</p><p>Ray was silent.</p><p>"He did, didn't he?" Jason pressed. Trent had tried to convince him just before take-off to be strapped to a gurney, sedated like Clay. But Jason hadn't wanted a bar of it. Being tied down, after his and Clay's ordeal, felt a little too unappealing and anxiety-inducing, thank you very much. Clay, for his part, was at least still too sore and out-of-it to care.</p><p>Ray let out a long-suffering sigh. He pinned Jason with a weary look. "Would you please, just … lay the fuck down."</p><p>"So Trent gets off your back?" Jason guessed, lightly amused.</p><p>Ray didn't answer, just scooted along the bench, nodded pointedly at the vacant four feet of space.</p><p>Jason held his ground a moment longer, but eventually rolled his eyes in reluctant agreement.</p><p>A pillow was hurled at him, before he'd got himself horizontal, bumping off his shoulder.</p><p>Jason irritably lifted his head, traced its trajectory back to Trent – who now looked mildly <em>less</em> displeased. He grabbed the pillow, mashed it a few times, and made a show of shoving it under his head.</p><p>He would never admit it, but it actually felt damned good to lay down. He gave his scratchy eyes permission to slip closed.</p><p>Ray shifted to a position beside Jason's head, as opposed to at his feet – possibly wanting to be not only closer to Jason, but Clay as well. He patted Jason's head.</p><p>Jason cracked open an eye. "Quit with the patronizing."</p><p>Ray's patting stilled. He removed his hand, leaned back into the netting. "Quit with the stubbornness," he countered, quirking a lip.</p><p>And Jason wisely decided to hold any further argument upon his tongue; opting instead to focus on the familiar, gentle rumble and bump of the plane, as it carried them home.</p><p>STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST</p><p>
  <strong>Three days later …</strong>
</p><p>Sonny cracked open the door to Clay's room, not at all surprised to see the rest of his brothers already there.</p><p>If Clay had been hoping for a peaceful hospital stay, well, the kid was fresh out of luck.</p><p>Throwing a cheery good morning, Sonny stepped the rest of the way into the crowded room.</p><p>Clay was still confined to bed. His leg had developed a mild infection, and his doctor wanted to keep him on IV antibiotics for another twenty-four hours, before switching to pills. At least, the latest bloodwork had resulted in Tylenol being brought back onto the table – a small mercy, amidst the disappointment of not being allowed home.</p><p>Sonny pulled up to the end of the bed, folded his arms and leaned against it. He regarded his boy. "Breaking out of here tomorrow, I hear?"</p><p>Clay released a frustrated sigh. "Not soon enough."</p><p>"Some could argue that it's actually <em>too soon</em>," Trent countered stiffly, from his spot leaning against the wall beside Brock.</p><p>Ray hovered by the blind-covered window, hip bumped against the sill.</p><p>And Jason had taken the only seat in the room, planted firmly by Clay's side.</p><p>"I'm fine," Clay insisted, glaring at Trent.</p><p>Trent chose not to reply.</p><p>Jason lifted his gaze from the magazine he was perusing, shot Clay a gentle, warning glance.</p><p>Sonny felt his lip twitch.</p><p>The way Jason was sitting now; ankle resting atop his opposite knee, <em>reading</em> … He looked like a parent, sitting watch by his kid's bed – not a master chief, sitting by his youngest team member.</p><p>Clay rolled his eyes, pinned Sonny with a <em>please for the love of God help me</em> look.</p><p>Sonny shrugged, powerless, and mildly amused.</p><p>Jason had announced that he was taking three weeks personal leave, that he would have Clay stay with him after the hospital. None of them had argued – although Sonny would much rather have had the younger man stay with him. It had to be acknowledged that both Jason and Clay had been through a lot, in the relatively short time they'd been missing. It made sense that they spend some time together, have a little space to process what had happened.</p><p>Sonny shook his thoughts back in order. He was just so damned grateful that both his biggest and littlest brothers were safe, mostly in one piece. He supposed, in this instance, he would agree to let Jason look after his boy.</p><p>"So," he announced, clearing his throat. "I have some news."</p><p>That grabbed everyone's attention.</p><p>"You're going sober for a month?" Trent guessed, raising a brow.</p><p>"Celibate?" Brock chipped in.</p><p>Clay snorted at Brock's contribution.</p><p>"No," Sonny replied, drawing out the word and glaring at their number five. "I just got a call, from Honduran Bam Bam."</p><p>Clay raised a questioning brow, mouthing "<em>Honduran Bam Bam?" </em>at Brock, as if seeking an explanation.</p><p>"You mean <em>Felipe,</em>" Ray piped up, before Brock could offer any insight.</p><p>"I mean, <em>Honduran Bam Bam</em>," Sonny corrected firmly. He pinned Clay with a look, skipped it to Jason. "He called to say that they got Jose Delgado. He led the team that brought him in."</p><p>Stunned silence settled.</p><p>"Brought him in, or took him out?" Jason questioned warily, magazine forgotten in his lap.</p><p>Sonny recalled Felipe's apologetic tone from the other end of the line. "They had orders to bring him in."</p><p>Jason muttered a curse.</p><p>Clay stayed silent, shoulders rigid.</p><p>"<em>But</em>," Sonny continued, hoping the next bit of news might lift them out of their disappointment. He fixed Clay with a look. "Felipe wanted you to know that Jose was uncooperative, tried to run." He twitched a wry smile. "Felipe remembered the tips you gave him about aiming his weapon." He stepped back from the bed, indicated his upper right thigh. "He got the fucker here for you. Shattered bone."</p><p>An abrupt flicker of emotion traveled across Clay's face. His gaze flitted down to his own wounded thigh.</p><p>"Asshat wont be walking any time soon," Sonny finished, a hint of dark satisfaction lining his tone.</p><p>Clay remained silent a moment longer, processing the information. All eyes rested upon him - everyone holding their breath, gauging his reaction.</p><p>Eventually, Clay pulled a shaky breath. Nodded slowly. "Good," he murmured, a hollowness to his tone. "Tell Felipe I'm grateful. I owe him one."</p><p>Sonny shook his head, leaned against the bed once more. "You don't owe him anything," he stated firmly. "He was seeking justice, not just for you and Jason, but for his best friend, as well."</p><p>Jason shifted at the mention of Miguel, rubbed at his chin. "Seems we owe Felipe thanks, for a few things."</p><p>Sonny agreed. He skipped a glance to each of his brothers. "The way we can thank him," he suggested, "is by remembering that Miguel was also a victim in this. He made a bad choice in the way he dealt with things, but sometimes, we're pinned down, and the bad choice feels like the only option we have." He met Jason's level look. "If someone needs to be blamed for what happened, let's direct that blame at Jose."</p><p>If his brothers were surprised by Sonny's rare display of compassion, well, they weren't the only ones. Sonny was good at surprising himself, sometimes, too.</p><p>Jason was the one to break the silence that threatened to settle. "I can agree to work on that," he stated simply, drawing murmured agreement from the others.</p><p>"On one condition," Clay added, fixing Sonny with an even look.</p><p>All eyes turned to their youngest.</p><p>Clay's lip twitched. "You tell me who the hell you are, and what the fuck you've done with my best friend."</p><p>Sonny held up his hands, opened his mouth to argue - or explain; or a combination of the two.</p><p>"Kid's right," Jason agreed abruptly, hurling the magazine. "You've gone soft. I want my angry Texan back."</p><p>The heaviness in the room cracked, gave way to laughter - along with a few more missiles launched in Sonny's direction.</p><p>And, just like that, a small amount of color returned to Clay's cheeks.</p><p>And, for the first time since he'd carried Clay's limp body out of the freezer room, Sonny felt like his little brother was actually back, and their family was complete, once again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Aaand I made it :) Here's the epilogue. Thank you so so much again for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Tell me again why we're taking this trip?"</p><p>Jason deposited Clay's bag in the back of his truck, threw a look at the kid across the front seats to where Clay hovered by the passenger door. "Thought it'd be good to have some downtime," he replied, climbing in behind the wheel, leaning back to pull the door closed.</p><p>Clay snorted. "Because things went so well the last time we tried that?"</p><p>Jason held back his retort, motioned for Clay to get in. "That was work," he countered. "This isn't work. You need a hand climbing up?"</p><p>Clay hesitated a moment longer, as if working out how best to navigate his way into the vehicle with his still-healing leg. He shook his head. "I got it." And he proceeded to pull himself in, only wincing a little bit.</p><p>Jason didn't bring attention to the fact that the younger man seemed a little winded once he made it into his seat. He also held back the urge to praise Clay for his solid effort. <em>Grown man, not a child</em>, he reminded himself, for about the hundredth time over the past week and a half. "Got everything you need?" he asked, starting the engine.</p><p>The truck rumbled to life.</p><p>Clay pulled his seatbelt on, shot Jason a look. "You tell me. You checked my bag." There was no heat in his tone, just mild annoyance and a hint of amusement.</p><p>"I was just making sure you had your meds," Jason argued, squeezing a smile and throwing the vehicle into reverse.</p><p>Clay let his head tilt back against the seat, shifting his leg into a comfortable position. "How far is it again?"</p><p>Jason could read between the lines – Clay didn't want to be cramped in a seat for too long. He'd thought about that. "About an hour. But I can stop along the way if you need to stretch." He pulled his truck onto the street, swinging it in the opposite direction of the base.</p><p>"Remind me," Clay said, rolling his gaze to the road ahead, "where are we going, exactly?"</p><p>Jason pulled his thoughts from his mental map, satisfied that he could remember the route. It had been a while. "A little spot up the coast. Alana and I used to take the kids, when they were younger." He twitched a smile, savoring the warmth of old memories. They were lined with sadness, now, but he was determined to hold onto them for what they were; remnants of happier times. "There's good fishing. You can fish right off the beach. I thought perhaps we could hire some gear, try our luck."</p><p>Clay returned the light smile, shifted his gaze away. "My grandfather used to take me fishing," he commented, staring out his window at the passing scenery. "He was a good fisherman."</p><p>Jason nearly did a double-take. During the time he'd known Clay, the kid had never voluntarily offered up any information regarding his childhood. He felt like he'd just been given a rare glimpse into something Clay normally kept well-hidden. Trying to sound casual, he decided to push his luck, "Oh yeah? Was that near where you lived in, uh, Liberia?"</p><p>Clay's eyes remained fixed somewhere beyond the glass. "Near our house," he confirmed. "We lived by a river."</p><p>Jason filed the information away. He had so many more questions, but he would hold on to them, for now. Baby steps. "Perhaps I can share some of my fishing tips and tricks," he suggested. "And you can share any your grandfather taught you."</p><p>Clay pulled his eyes from the window. Flicked Jason a light smile.</p><p>After a beat, Jason decided to offer, "You know, I'd love to hear about your grandparents, if ever you want to chat about them." Maybe it was pushing too hard, he wasn't sure, but he'd take the opening for what it was.</p><p>Surprisingly, Clay didn't reject the invitation. "Okay," he agreed.</p><p>And in that simple answer, Jason felt like his boy's notoriously high walls lowered, just a little bit. He couldn't help the resulting smile.</p><p>The moment was shattered, however, by Jason's cell phone buzzing from the central cup holder. The lit screen displayed a text message from Trent.</p><p>Jason had deliberately missed his morning check-in with his number four, and he was surprised at their medic's restraint in waiting this long before contacting him.</p><p>"You want me to reply?" Clay offered, having caught sight of the name on the text.</p><p>Jason chewed his lip.</p><p>"Wait," Clay said, narrowing his eyes, amusement suddenly lining his tone. "You haven't told him you're taking me away, have you."</p><p>Jason flicked a guilty look down at the phone. Nope, he had not.</p><p>Clay snorted, attempted to stifle a threatening smile with his hand.</p><p>Jason reached down, switched the phone off.</p><p>Clay's eyes went wide as he lowered his hand. "Oh, you've got balls." The smile broke through, spreading into one of his signature shit-eating grins.</p><p>Jason couldn't help the mischievous tug at his own lips. "How long do you think we've got?" He'd been given the okay from Clay's doctor, on the condition that they take it easy. He'd just … failed to mention it to Trent.</p><p>Clay raised a brow. "Until Mom hunts us down? I give him a day."</p><p>Jason huffed, pinned him with a look. A day was generous, at best.</p><p>Clay leaned an elbow on the window sill, chuckling and settling more comfortably into his seat. A welcome lightness lined his features, and his smile lingered.</p><p><em>Next time you want a father-son vacation, do what normal people do … Go fishing</em>.</p><p>Jose's taunting words echoed in Jason's head.</p><p>He didn't like thinking he was taking the advice of a mad-man. He liked to think of this as more of a <em>fuck you</em>, <em>asshole</em>.</p><p>Jose was destined to rot in a prison cell. He'd never expected the two of them to survive – let alone be taking a trip together. Jason planned to toast the man's miserable future from the beach; savoring the sand between his toes, and enjoying a bottle of shitty beer, alongside his boy.</p><p>Clay's cell phone buzzed. He awkwardly fished it from his pocket. After reading the text, he switched it off, placed it beside Jason's. "On second thought, I revise my previous guesstimate to half a day." He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "Think you'd better drive faster."</p><p>"Mom's starting to panic?" Jason guessed with a grin.</p><p>Clay just laughed.</p><p>God, he loved Trent, but seriously …</p><p>Reaching over, Jason twisted the volume up on the radio. He gripped the wheel tighter, and stepped on the gas.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's goodbye from me, for a little while at least. Take care everyone, and stay safe x</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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